The Hunger Games  Revisited
by Lady Asia
Summary: The 74th Hunger Games have three tributes from District 12; Katniss, Peeta and now Primrose. How will the Games be different? Which one will make it out alive? Written in the place of 'The Hunger Games.'
1. Chapter 1

There can be many life-changing moments.

One that stays in my mind is the death of my father. My hero, my guide, my saviour. I'd always been close to him, closer than I'd been with my mother. I was the very definition of 'Daddy's little girl'. He was the one who taught me how to hunt, how to be gracious, and above all, how to take care of a family. That skill came in handy when he died in a mine explosion, leaving my incompetent mother to take care of us. She'd been absent for the first year or so of his death, mentally checking out and refusing to check back in. I'd been the mother, taking care of my younger sister, Primrose, making sure she had food, clothes on her back, a figure to look up to. It had all been up to me.

Another life changing moment was the day I met Gale. He was my best friend, and I hoped that it would never change. I couldn't imagine life without him; he was the only male I could depend on in my life ever since my father died. We hunted together every day, both understanding the burden of taking care of a family at a young age. Gale was the oldest of his siblings, and was determined to help his mother provide for the family. Hazelle Hawthorne had been there for her brood, at least. It was more than my mother had ever done.

Of course, a life changing moment was occurring right now. I stood amongst a sea of other children, boys and girls of all ages, waiting expectantly with baited breath. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Gale stands in the middle of an all-boys row, his messy dark hair tamed with grease, and a proud stiffened back. He glances at me and smiles reassuringly, and just like that, I feel my insecurities melt away. He mouths at me, '_Smile, Katnip'_ and I pretend to frown at him.

I break his gaze and my eyes roam over the crowd. I spot my mother, standing towards the back with the other nervous parents, her blonde hair intricately braided into tight worms in a hairstyle identical to my own. She isn't looking at me, and her face is pinched with worry. I follow her gaze and see that her eyes are trained on my younger sister, Prim. I feel my own chest tighten when I see how tiny she looks against the taller kids. I recall the words I spoke to her that morning.

"Don't worry, Prim. You're name has only been in there once. They're not going to pick you."

It was true. The odds were ever in her favour. I roll my eyes at the stupid expression that the Capitol had coined, some sort of macabre slogan for the Hunger Games. I can see how tightly her fists are clenched, and think about striding over to stand with her. To try and comfort her. Before I can make a decision, a woman hurries onto the stage, waving her arms.

"Welcome, welcome!" she cries, her blonde curls bouncing up and down enthusiastically as she speaks. "Welcome to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

A halfhearted applause is scattered among the group of parents. The children don't move. We are all rooted to the spot. As Effie Trinket warbles on, I try to distract myself by staring at her garish outfit, wondering how people possibly wore things like that in the Capitol. Truth be told, the bubblegum pink bubble dress with the matching cropped feather jacket, and the fascinator in the shape of a peacock's tail was positively tame compared to some of the others. Some of them even dyed their skin. It was little things like that that made me happy to be a part of District 12, even though there were far more disadvantages.

Like this. Like today. The reaping. Where one lucky boy and girl were chosen to represent the district in a televised death match. It sounded so primeval, especially for a society which considered themselves to be futuristic. I stare at the round fishbowl on stage, which contained 20 slips of paper with the name _Katniss Everdeen _on them. Gale had been entered 42 times. It was the price we had to pay to support our families.

"...honour!" Effie declares, just as I begin to listen again. "Fame, fortune, and glory. I wish you all the best, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" I smile slightly when I see Gale mouthing along to her over-practiced speech. "Without further ado, we will now select the tributes that will represent District 12."

She moves away from the podium, and I catch sight of her shoes. They're easily one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen, tall stilettoed heels in a shocking pink covered with mohair. It gives me comfort. The Reaping is a serious event. A little bit of lunacy seems to break up the sombre mood for me. Effie doesn't even stumble in them; she walks as if she is floating on water. Her hand dips into the first fishbowl, hovering over the slips of paper with the mandatory black rectangle sealing them. Like an eagle scouting prey, she attacks a slip of paper, triumphantly pulling it out and holding it high.

Effie strides back towards the podium, her heels clicking on the floor. She flourishes the paper, her clown-like painted lips stretching into an impossibly wide grin. She opens the flip, smoothing it out in front of her.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

My heart drops, ricocheting off my stomach and shooting back up my throat. I feel the audible sigh of relief from the hundreds of girls around me, but all I can do is try to catch a glimpse of Prim. She's still standing in her spot, unmoving.

Effie Trinket squints out at the crowd. "Primrose Everdeen!" she repeats. "Come on up, young lady!"

Finally, Prim begins to move. She stumbles from her spot and slowly breaks away from the ranks, discerning herself as the female tribute. Effie spots her and waves frantically at the Peacekeepers to hurry and accompany her onto the stage.

My feet move before my head can register what I'm doing.

"Prim!" I shout, taking off after her. "Prim!"

She turns around, a difficult action when you're being shouldered by three muscular Peacekeepers. My heart lurches. She's already started crying.

We both move forward at the same time, trying to embrace, but the Peackeeper's don't let us. We're restrained before we've even taken two steps. The words shoot out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" I cry, steadying myself.

The next few seconds are a blur. Prim starts screaming, and I try to block it out. The Peacekeepers escort her back to her place in line, where my mother meets her. Another group of them grab hold of my arm and strongarm me up towards the stage, where Effie is still marvelling at the glamour of the Games. "A volunteer!" she cooed as I approach. "This isn't the normal protocol taken at the Reaping, but if there aren't any other volunteers?"

Her voice dies out and the only thing to respond is the wind. She nodded to herself, and asks me what my name is. I tell her. She realises that we're sisters, and I know that the Capitol will love this angle. She holds my hand and thrusts it into the air. "Ladies and Gentleman, put your hands together for Katniss Everdeen, our first tribute for District 12!"

The crowd is completely quiet. Not one person raises their hands to clap. There's too much sadness in their eyes. I see a mixture of pity and respect. I see Prim. Her red-rimmed eyes never break contact with me.

Effie, somewhat disgruntled from the lack of applause, stalks over the second fishbowl. She plucks the paper out without hesitation, and reads it without introduction. "Peeta Mellark."

My stomach does another somersault as I look at Peeta, whose face is ashen. No one volunteers to save him. He doesn't look as though he expected it. Once he is next to me on stage, I feel his body warmth. It steadies me.

We're both expecting Effie to close the ceremony so we can hurry to our deaths. Normally, she says a minute long spiel about the honour of our district, and then the tributes are ushered offstage. This time, it is different.

Effie has been conferring with someone offstage. He's tall and thin, with an unmistakeable air of the Capitol about him. He gestures out at the crowd, and Effie clasps her hands together and nods. She returns to her spot in the centre of the stage with a strained smile.

"And now, for a special announcement. The Capitol have one last message about the Hunger Games, and that is that this is all about promoting loyalty, strength and survival. It truly is an honour." She clears her throat. Peeta and I exchange looks with one another. We wonder what she is getting at.

"Ladies and Gentleman, the Gamemakers have decided to make this year a little more interesting. A pre-cursor to next year's Quarter Quell, if you will. The rules have changed slightly, staring with District 12. This year, there will be three tributes from this area. This is an advantage to all of you! You have more of a chance of producing a tribute who is a winner!" She beams out at the stunned audience. "The Gamemakers have been very generous in deciding that this rule will begin with District 12."

I already know what's going to happen. They want a show. They want to see a drama unfold before their eyes in the arena. It isn't just about killing each other in bloody, messy ways. It's about entertainment. What could be more entertaining than seeing siblings fight to the death?

I know who she's going to say before she says it. She doesn't even bother going back towards the fishbowl. The Capitol have already made their choice.

"Now, we won't be selecting this tribute by random draw," she trills. "The Capitol have already made their decision."

Don't say it. Don't say it.

"Primrose Everdeen! Make your way onto the stage, young lady!"


	2. Chapter 2

To her credit, Prim has stopped crying. Maybe she realises that no amount of tears would change her fate. She takes a couple of stumbling steps forward before the Peacekeepers were once again at her side, grasping onto her arms and guiding her towards the stage. I look at their faces, the faces of men who I had been selling illegal wares to for years. Their faces were impassive, masks of beige. It is only when I look into their eyes that I see the pity and pain they too are feeling.

Prim reaches my side, and I immediately grasp her clenched fist in my hand. It flutters against my fingers like a dying bird, beating its' wings against a cage.

Effie taps the microphone a couple of times before leaning into it. "Isn't this wonderful? Sisters, competing side by side! There is no higher honour, really. District 12 could produce a winner this year! Happy Hunger Games, everyone!"

And then it is over. Just like that. Another life changing moment. I catch my mother's eye before Effie pushes us through the double doors out the back of the stage. The other parents have started to stir, finding their children or finding one another. My mother still hasn't moved. She is stock still, staring at Prim and I, her eyes darting back and forth between her only children. My heart does a little flip in my chest, and for the first time in quite a while I feel sorry for her. All the other parents around her are breathing a sigh of relief, realising that they are safe, their children are safe, for another year. My mother has just lost both of her children in a matter of three minutes.

Prim doesn't let go of my hand until we are in the room behind the stage. Peeta has been ushered to a different place, where he is able to see his family for once last time. When the doors open, and my mother walks through them, Prim leaps onto her like a cat. Her limbs wrap around my mother's waist, and they both began to weep. I bite my lip, and stiffen my back. I will not cry.

She pats Prim's hair, whispering soothing words, and they cling to each other as if they'd never let go. I hesitate for a moment before moving forward to join them, and my mother immediately pulls me into the hug. My cheeks are wet with her tears. "I love you both," she cries. "I love you both so much. I'm so sorry."

This only makes Prim cry harder. "It's not your fault," I mutter.

"Keep her safe," she directs at me. "Please, don't let anything happen."

I nod, only because I don't trust myself to speak. I feel like shouting at her, shouting that it isn't fair, the burden that has been placed on my shoulders. But it isn't her fault. It isn't my fault. The people who are to blame don't even know us, only that we're siblings and that it would make great entertainment this year to force us both into the arena.

The Peacekeepers fling open the door and grab my mother. It's time for us to go. Prim starts to scream, the terror of the situation fully sinking in. She's going to be expected to fight to the death. She's going to be up against kids double her size, and six years older than she is. I imagine that my level of fear isn't half of what she is feeling right now.

She doesn't start to calm down until we're on the train. The whole car trip has been a blur, with Effie trying to speak over Prim's sniffling and occasional outburst, and Peeta drumming his hands nervously on the window. The moment we set foot onto the train, Prim's sobs cease almost immediately. I think it's because neither of us have set foot in anything so lavish in our lives. Not even the mayor's house is as fancy as this.

She grips my hand tightly, and we make our way to our sleeping quarters. Effie gives us an hour to freshen up, and instructs us to meet her in the dining carriage afterwards. We're going to be formally meeting Haymitch Abernathy, our mentor, and going over strategies. "Nothing like a head start!" she sings out, disappearing to her own quarters with a swish of pink.

Once we're alone, Prim breaks down again. "I can't do it, Katniss," she sobs, pressing herself against me. I stroke her hair. "I just can't. There's nothing I can do out there."

I can't argue with her, but I try to soothe her. "That's not true, Prim," I say. "You have such a gift with healing. I bet that will come in handy. Don't underestimate yourself, little duck."

I leave her on the bed to rest for a little while, and within minutes she is asleep. She's cried more times today than she has in her lifetime. I head for the bathroom to shower, thinking it might distract me. The moment the hot water begins to seep out, I start to cry. I scream and beat at the wall, knowing that the thrum of the water will drown it out. Once I'm out and I've dried myself off, I feel a little bit better.

Prim is awake and has dressed herself when I emerge. It's almost time to meet Effie and Haymitch. I'm not looking forward to meeting Haymitch, who is notorious for being a drunk. I can't see how anything he has to offer will help me, but I suppose he did win the Games one year. We hold hands the whole way to the dining carriage. I feel as though there will be a lot of this in the upcoming days. Prim thinks of it as a source of comfort, and what kind of sister would I be to deny her of that?

We meet Peeta along the way. He's standing by himself a couple of doors down from our carriage, staring into space. He snaps out of his reverie as we approach, and smiles cautiously. I don't smile back, but Prim does. He tries to make small talk as we walk together, but I'm not in the mood to be friendly. Prim answers his questions for the both of us, and I occasionally give a one word answer. I don't want to look in his eyes and be reminded of the fact that I owe my life to him. He showed me kindness when no one else would. He didn't deserve this death anymore than my beautiful twelve year old sister did.

I notice Effie has changed her outfit once again. The ensemble was almost the same, except this time, her attire was an eye-watering lime green. She is poised at the table, and hasn't yet started her dinner. Haymitch, on the other hand, was swigging enthusiastically from a hip flask and shovelling serves of stew into his mouth at break-neck speed.

"Haymitch Abernathy, this is Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, and Primrose Everdeen," Effie says, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Our newest tributes."

Haymitch gives a curt nod and lifts his drink in a toast, before tipping it back down his throat. "It's a pleasure," he slurs, but I know he doesn't mean it.

Effie tries to get some chatter going, but it's not going anywhere. Peeta asks Haymitch several times about some strategies, but he can barely stay upright, let alone share any survival techniques.

Prim finds my hand under the table and squeezes it. I pray she won't start crying again, but she simply scoops some pavlova into her mouth with her free hand and lays her spoon back on her plate. We've both never seen so much food in our lives, and have eaten until we're full to bursting. We excuse ourselves and head back to our room. Effie allows this, but reminds us to be in the dining carriage at seven o clock the next morning, so that we can have a proper discussion before arriving in the Capitol. Peeta follows us, propping Haymitch up on him and dragging him back to his room. Haymitch vomits all over himself in the process.

I can't help but think about how nice Peeta is. I can hear him talking to Haymitch as we trot back to our rooms, and I can hear the shower running next door, so I assume he's running him under cold water and rinsing his own sick off himself. I don't want to think about how nice Peeta Mellark is. I certainly don't want to consider becoming friends with him.

I have my little sister to look out for. It was going to be hard enough to try and take care of myself, let alone watching over Prim to make sure she didn't get killed. I knew the chances of either of us making it back were slim. If I made friends with Peeta Mellark, it would only make it more difficult to kill him. And I would have to try to kill him. There was no doubt about it.

Prim showers and we strip off to our underwear, and crawl under the sheets. There are two beds, but we share the same one. I hold Prim in my arms, and she curls against my chest, the gentle hum of the train lulling her to sleep. I only have a couple of minutes of peace before she starts to cry again. I rub her back, and sing to her, but nothing works. All I can do is let her run out of tears. I start to think it isn't that bad an idea. In the end, we're both lying there, crying softly, holding each other, until there are no tears left.


	3. Chapter 3

When we enter the dining carriage the next morning, Effie, Peeta and Haymitch are already there, their plates piled high with steaming eggs, fat chipolatas and bread rolls. Peeta is gesturing enthusiastically, waving his fork around. Haymitch is already a little loud and cheery; he's obviously already started drinking. I catch the last part of his sentence as we sit down. "-get out of there. Don't look back."

"Don't look back where?" I ask.

They both turn to look at me. Prim breaks the silence with a shy, "Good morning." Peeta returns her greeting, and then glances at Haymitch, who clears his throat and spears another roasted potato.

"Don't look back at the Cornucopia," he says finally. "Don't bother going for weapons. Just get out of there as quickly as you can. They don't call it the bloodbath for nothing."

I assess this information. "But then we'll be weaponless for the rest of the Games," I argue. "Wouldn't it be better to try and get something? Even a sword?"

"Or a bow and arrow?" Peeta adds, shooting a side-long look at me.

Prim drains her glass of sweet nectar juice, and wipes her mouth on a napkin. Effie watches her, nodding approvingly. When her head moves, it looks as though her massive headpiece is about to engulf her. The electric blue diamante bowler hat is perched precariously on her carefully rolled wig. "I'm glad to see that the two of you are starting to think about strategies," she chirps.

I exchange a look with Prim. When we'd woken up that morning, we'd had a serious discussion. "We have to make the best of the situation, Katniss," Prim had said earnestly. "We have to try." I'd agreed, for her sake.

"Well, we want to win, don't we?" I say, looking down at my plate. Haymitch grunts and takes another swig from the hip flask.

"Well, soon we'll be arriving in the Capitol, and then the real fun can begin!" Effie says. "You'll meet your stylists, and they'll prepare you for when you're on show to the general public. Katniss, you and Primrose will be sharing stylists…" her voice trails off, and I know she's trying to figure out how to state her next words. "The Capitol weren't… weren't fully aware that they would need a third team. This whole reaping process happened so quickly!"

What she means is that they had no idea how entertaining it would be to have a third tribute until Prim was called and I volunteered. I don't bother correcting her; rather, I turn to Peeta and ask, "What else have you been speaking about?"

I catch myself thinking that Peeta has nice eyes. I shake that thought from my head, and it is almost immediately replaced by thoughts of Gale. Sweet, strong Gale, who'll be comforting my mother right this very moment. He'd have to bring her game, as there was no way she could feed herself. "I asked how we're supposed to get sponsors," he answers.

Haymitch chuckles. "Mighty difficult when you're from District 12," he coughs. He points at Prim. "This one might have a chance at sponsors, but she's got no hope at surviving. You look like a fighter, Katniss, but you're not real likeable. As for you…" he stares at Peeta, his eyes unfocused. "You look like you might have it sussed out, kid."

"Have what sussed out?" I ask, stinging from his earlier barb.

"None of the others seemed to figure it out, if they ever made it out of the bloodbath. It's not just about fighting, and who's the strongest, and all that junk. You might be great at sword-fighting, but where's that gonna get you if all you need is a drink of uncontaminated water?"

"Sponsors," Prim says softly.

Haymitch nods furiously, and Effie inches away from him slightly, pretending to be interested in the crocheted doilies underneath our plates. "You gotta make the Capitol like you," he says. "Now, I've never had a tribute go far enough into the Games to need sponsors. I guess you three think you can change that."

Peeta looks at Effie. "So that's what you and our stylists are gonna do, huh? You're going to make us likeable?"

Effie cringes at his tone, but pastes a bright smile onto her face. "Well, I'm sure we'll barely have to do a thing. You three seem to be a cut above the rest already." She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I can't remember the last time we had such wonderful tributes with manners! The last two ate with their hands. Every meal, you know. Almost as if they'd never seen silverware."

They probably hadn't. I think about eating the rest of the meal with my hands, but decide that I should try the whole 'likeable' thing.

We soon discover that our stylists have been employed for more than just teaching us how to be likeable.

Once we reach the Capitol, and get over our awe of the gigantic stretch of buildings, we're whisked off to separate rooms to meet our stylists. Prim is allowed to stay with me, and we meet Venia, Octavia and Flavius. The immediately begin to ooh and ahh over our hair and skin, exclaiming about the condition it's in and how much work they're going to need to do. Prim is led off in a flurry of corkscrew orange curls by Flavius, and Octavia and Venia lay me down and begin to wash me.

I'd almost call it relaxing, if it weren't for the hot wax stripping every strand of hair from my body. Soon, I'm as smooth as silk, and my nails and skin glow. Flavius swaps with the other two, who head for Prim, and he begins to fix my hair. All three of the stylists keep up a steady stream of chatter, and if they weren't from the Captiol, I might have enjoyed their company. The problems in their lives seem so trivial. I try not to be bitter as Flavius blow dries my hair into a fluffy cloud. The other stylists return to complete my makeup, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I know I'm almost done.

Flavius orders me into a different room, where I'm to wait for someone called Cinna. I lie on a reclined chair, waiting in the dark. When Cinna finally enters, I sit up immediately. "Lie down, Katniss," he calls, wheeling something else into the room. "Relax. This might be your only chance to."

I start to bite back that it's impossible to relax, but he cuts me off. "Sorry," he says. "It's probably a little bit difficult to relax, isn't it?"

I don't comment, only asking, "Well, aren't you going to congratulate me?"

Cinna purses his lips and begins to arrange some clothes on the racks. "I don't see the point. You're a brave girl, Katniss. I'm sorry." He's quiet for a moment. "I met Primrose. She's a beautiful girl. She was very happy with her gown for the ceremony tonight."

"Has she already been fitted?" I ask.

"Yes. Your preparation took a little longer than hers, so I went ahead and fitted her. You've been here for hours, you know. The ceremony begins in just over an hour. You're going to be needed out the front soon."

"Wearing what? Another coal-miners suit?" I ask dryly, squinting at the clothes.

Cinna extracts a gown from the rack. "No. We're going with something a little different this year. The three of you are a little too special to be covered in coal."

"We will be clothed, right?" I ask anxiously. "I mean, there was that one year where they were just covered in coal dust."

"Trust me, Katniss," Cinna says my name easily, as if we've been friends for years. "You're going to look spectacular. Don't you want to try it on?"

I'm only wearing a skimpy robe to cover myself up, and it's easy enough to shed. Cinna helps dress me, and when he zips the gown up, I look at myself in the mirror. It's a simple black dress, with a fitted bust and a full length skirt boosted with tulle. "Just the black then?"

Cinna smiles. "Hardly."

As we're preparing to go on, my heart hammers in my chest. Prim squeezes my hand. "You look so pretty," she says, and I automatically tell her the same. It's true, she does. She looks a lot older than her 12 years. I suppose in the last day, she's aged quite a bit. She's had to grow up, really.

The other tributes are milling around, and although a lot of the outfits are beautiful, they're very obvious and common. The Career tributes turn to look at us, and we hold our ground and stare back. The beautiful tall one with the full, lustrous blonde hair sneers, and turns her back. Cinna smiles, fussing with the hem of my dress. "None of them have any clue what they're up against," he murmurs. "When that crowd sees you, they're going to be falling over each other to sponsor you. You're going to make a lasting impression."

He'd explained it to Haymitch on the way. "The Capitol love wealth, displays of wealth, glitz, glamour, all of that," he'd said animatedly. "That's what we're doing. We're giving them what they want."

They count us in. I can hear Caesar Flickerman's voice booming, welcoming the audience. District 1 begin their entrance, and not long after, District 2. We take our position in the chariot and Cinna makes the final arrangements. "So, you're sure it won't hurt?" Peeta asks anxiously, and Cinna crosses his heart solemnly. We shut our eyes, and I realise that he's right. I can't feel a thing. The flames licking at the back of my shoulder blades. We begin our slow procession forward, and I see what Cinna means about it being lucky that we're the last district.

Glittering diamonds are lying in our wake, hanging in the air around us, making our skin and hair glow. They adorn the floor behind us, and cover every inch of our skin, and the crowd gasp and scream as we're thrust into the spotlight. They're not real diamonds, of course, but Cinna is very clever, and it would be impossible to tell that they're fakes. "Coal miners no more!" Caesar's triumphant voice shrieks. "Ladies and Gentleman, may I present to you, the tributes of District 12! They are true diamonds!"

Peeta links his hands through mine, and I flinch, pulling my hand away. "They'll love it!" he says. "Just do it!"

So I do, and we hold our hands high above Prim's head, who's in the middle. The crowd scream louder, and I can even see some of the audience in the first row scrambling over the seats to sweep up the diamond dust into their hands. Their screams and chants ring in my head, and for the first time, I feel confident. I feel somewhat happy. The other tributes look unimpressed, but we're all feeling so elated that we don't even care.

When we meet Cinna afterwards, he's beaming from ear to ear. "They'll be talking about this one for years," he says, punching me lightly on the shoulder. "And if I heard correctly, one of you certainly stole the show."

"Who?" Peeta asks, out of breath. We're all smiling at each other, even the stumbling Haymitch, when Effie comes running up to us, teetering in her fuchsia heels.

"I've heard all about it!" she cries, enveloping Prim in a hug. "They cannot stop talking about you! Primrose Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!"


	4. Chapter 4

Training is difficult.

Haymitch has warned us that we are too not show off our strengths, and give away what our true abilities are. That being said, we don't want to be known as the weaklings of the Games. Prim contradicts this, bringing up Johanna Mason, who won her games by pretending to not have a strong bone in her body. I don't say anything, but I'm impressed. Even though Prim has barely said a word the entire training, it's obvious that she's been listening.

We meet the other tributes down in the Training Area. We'd seen one another from afar, but had never had a chance to properly meet and speak. I doubted any of them had given the slightest consideration to a meet and greet, but that didn't mean I didn't want to get to know them. I kept one ear on the speaker, who was addressing the group with a speech on training, and focused my eyes on my competitors.

The first person to catch my eye was the tall, blonde boy from District 2. Haymitch had referred to them as the 'Careers'; the boys and girls who had been training for years, all leading up to this very moment. They had been born to fight in the Hunger Games arena. I feel a flicker of anger at the thought that they are more prepared than the rest of us. And even though I know it isn't fair, that it has been thrust upon them, their attitude and behaviour does nothing to quell my anger.

The beautiful blonde girl next to him calls him Cato, and I commit it to memory. Cato. Cato. Cato. I quickly learn that the group surrounding him are made up of District 1 and 2, and strain to hear their names. Glimmer, Marvel, Clove and Cato. I eye Glimmer's mane of blonde curls, which she has refused to tie back from her face. It hangs in a satiny curtain on either side of her face, and she tosses it over her shoulder and laughs occasionally. She's very bubbly and assured of herself for someone who is almost certainly going to be dead within a week.

When the speaker dismisses us and ushers us to begin training, I take Prim's hand and lead her towards the knot-tying station, which is devoid of other Tributes. Most of them have headed straight towards the knives and armoury. "How are you doing, Prim?"

Prim watches the instructor as he shows us how to make a complicated-looking knot. She speaks out of the corner of her mouth, trying to not be rude. "I'm okay. How are you, Katniss?"

I breathe evenly. "Fine. Is there any station you especially want to learn? Any particular skill?"

Prim considers this. "I know you can't teach me archery, because it'll show how good you are. I don't really know what my strengths would be."

I ruffle her hair, and we watch in silence for a few more seconds before she adds, "I know what my weaknesses are."

"You don't have any weakness, little duck," I answer, even though we both know it isn't true. "And you have strengths. Look at everything you do at home with mother."

"We both have the same weakness, Katniss. Our hearts," she answers, gesturing around her. "Look at the rest of the tributes. Half of them wouldn't even blink before cutting our throats. We'd hesitate." We walk away from the station. "And in that split second we hesitate, we would die."

I know she's right, but I can't bring myself to acknowledge it. "Well, then you know what you need to work on, I guess."

She gives me a sad little smile and heads off for another station, and I'm left standing there, wondering when my little sister grew up. It hits me that she hasn't cried in a couple of days, whereas she'd normally breakdown at the slightest mention of combat. I turn on my heel and stride towards Peeta, who's painting his arm. He holds it up to the light for me to see, admiring his own handiwork.

"Very beautiful," I say dryly. "But I don't think you can paint a person to death."

"But you can hide," he says, putting his arm against the fake tree inside the room. It instantly melts into the background, and I'm impressed. I clear my throat and raise my eyebrows. "I learnt to do it when I would frost the cakes in the bakery. I like colours, and creating I guess. I like beautiful things."

I can't help but feel the comment is directed at more than frosting, but I brush it off. "I need to talk to you," I ask abruptly.

"We're talking right now," he points out, still painting his hand.

I glance at the two young girls who are standing near me, the Tributes from District 5 and 7. One has a sly, pointed face, and I know that she's listening to every word we say. I take an immediately dislike to her, and place my hand on Peeta's untouched one. "Not here."

He allows me to tug him away, until we're pressed against a wall. "If you don't mind me asking," he says, "I'd like to know why you want to speak to me all of a sudden. I mean, we've talked, sure, but for the last couple of days, you've been treating me as if I'm invisible."

I instantly bristle. "I guess I've had other things on my mind," I say, shooting a pointed look at Prim, who is standing near the Careers and watching them, fascinated. "In case you've forgotten, I have a lot more at stake in this game than my own life."

He's ashamed. "I'm sorry. I know you do. I guess I'm a little taken aback that you're talking to me." He allows a small smile. "I'm very happy you are, by any means."

I choose to ignore him. "You know Prim. You've been watching her for the last couple of days. Help me out. What are her strengths?"

"You know her strengths."

I shake my head. "I'm too close to her. I can't make an objective decision. I see so much good in her, so much potential. You've seen how the Capitol has embraced her. They're calling her 'The Girl on Fire'. They think she's a sweet, beautiful girl who doesn't deserve what is inevitably coming to her. I want her to have a fighting chance. I'm not going to be able to look out for her the whole time we're in that arena. She needs to be able to take care of herself when... when..." I can't finish my sentence, but he knows that I'm talking about my own death.

He looks at her, frowning. "Katniss, think about what you're good at."

"I can hunt," I volunteer. "I can identify plants and herbs and I can run."

He nods approvingly. "Now what does she normally do at home? When you're out all day doing the running and the hunting and the identifying and whatnot?"

"She helps mother," I answer dully. Prim has stepped up to the station where the Careers have been examining the artillery. She hesitantly reaches out to touch some of the things. "She can heal."

"She can heal," he agrees. "She's bound to be just like your mother when she's older."

"But Peeta, how is that going to help her?" I argue. "What use is her being able to heal when she'll be dead before she can manage to treat that knife in her skull?"

"Well, I guess the skills that come from healing are precision, and the ability to pinpoint exactly what is needed," he muses. A little dark girl from District 11 wanders past, flanked by the brutish male from the same district. The way he watches her reminds me of the way I sometimes watch over Prim while she sleeps. The girl casts me an uncertain smile, and I muster one in return.

"So what? She's precise?" I snap. "You know what? Don't bother. I don't know why I even asked. I'll figure something out, I guess. If I'm not dead before I even leave the Cornucopia."

Peeta calls to me retreating back, but I don't turn. I know I'm being stupid. All he's doing is trying to help me, patiently smiling and trying to make me feel better, and I'm being snappy and angry. I pass the District 11 Tributes, who I learn are called Thresh and Rue, and make my way towards Prim. She's holding a vial of something, which contains a blackish liquid inside. She holds it gingerly, and straps it to the knife she's holding with some stringy bark. I watch her from a short distance as she takes a deep breath and clenches it in her fist. The Careers are watching her; Glimmer is laughing with her head thrown back, and Clove is eyeing the knives in Prim's hand. I know that Clove considers herself to be the knife-throwing expert amongst the Tributes, and after seeing her skill, she has every reason to think so. Prim pulls her hand back and releases the knife, aiming for the archery target.

It isn't a strong throw, but it's okay. It hits just below the bullseye, and lodges tightly in the cork. The vial shatters on impact, and I can hear Cato make a remark about easy pickings.

They turn away when a sizzling noise suddenly draws their attention back. The vial is oozing the blackish liquid, which is dripping down the board and onto the floor. As it runs, I can see it is burning holes right into the cork. My mouth hangs open as I look back at Prim, who is smiling proudly. I realise that she has made the burning concoction herself out of the supplies at the edible and dangerous plants section. She has two more vials next to her, one a clear, sunny yellow, and the other a murky pea-green mash. Every Tribute in the room is eyeing the vials, wondering what danger they present.

Peeta is suddenly at my side, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. His hot breath tickles my ear. "I guess you didn't even have to worry," he murmurs, and I feel myself nodding. "She figured it out for herself."

I look towards the Careers. Cato is frowning, looking back and forth at Prim and myself. Suddenly, I want Prim to stop, to look weak, to not have any strengths. I don't want them to pick her off first. I want them to ignore her until it's too late, and she's on top of them, stabbing into their eyes.

Peeta speaks again. "You two will make a good team," he continues. "If she can make up those kind of lethal dosings, and you can administer them, imagine how simple it could be. You'd be unstoppable." He smiles at me, and I wonder how Peeta Mellark manages to see the good in people all the time. How he's determined to look on the bright side of everything. These kinds of thoughts are going to make it even more difficult for me to kill him.

Prim fires another knife at the target. The sunny yellow liquid bursts over the new board, and immediately, an acrid mixture of smoke and soot leaps into the air. Peeta cocks his head to one side, and opens his mouth hesitantly. I can tell he's been weighing up whether to say his next thought.

"If they don't kill her first."


	5. Chapter 5

The night after that training session, we were back on the 13th floor, in our penthouse suite. It was still difficult living conditions to get used to, seeing as working hot showers was a surprise to us. Peeta was very verbal in his admiration of the floor, shouting out for me and Prim to join him whenever he discovered something new. He woke me in the middle of the night a couple of days ago when he found out that the dazzling chandeliers hanging above the dining table changed colours whenever you clapped. I'd tried to share his enthusiasm, but it was hard to pretend to be happy when he'd interrupted one of my first smooth sleeps. I'd been restless for most of the other nights.

Prim was more quiet when she surveyed the floor, drinking it all in slowly, savouring the luxury we were not accustomed too. One of her favourite things was the bathrooms, which had dozens of gold-plated taps, piles of fluffy lilac-coloured towels and hundreds of tiny labelled bottles, filled with ointments and creams and lotions. The medicine chest, which seemed like an unnecessary item to keep when medical attention could be at your door in less than a minute, was her personal Cornucopia. She stroked the fabric bandages, sniffed and tested some of the antiseptic liquids on her own minor cuts and bruises, and examined the various needles and thermometers.

I liked to retreat to my room directly after dinner, and I usually preferred to be alone, although Prim would normally accompany me. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about anything to do with what was happening right now. I used to curved silver remote by my bed to change my window to a forest scenery landscape, and leant back on my bed. I rested my arms behind my bed and shut my eyes, listening to the sounds of chirping birds, snapping twigs and rustling leaves. I pretended I was back in the forest, hunting with Gale. I was back in my district. I was home.

I'm not entirely sure what Peeta did to relax himself. His life back in the district hadn't been half as difficult as mine – he'd always had a hot meal and a big family to support one another – but at the same time, his mother had been constantly on his back, and he'd been expected to contribute largely to the family income. As I'd slowly gotten to know Peeta, I realised I had underestimated him and I had never had a chance of understanding what went on inside his head. At first I'd thought that he was putting on the nice act, to try and win me and Prim over and make us look weak when he cut our hearts out in the arena. But now... now I'd realised that he was just Peeta Mellark. The sweet son of the District 12 baker. He was truly a wonderful human being, and I didn't want to win the Hunger Games if it meant killing him.

That night, it was a little different. We'd just had our training session with Gamemakers which decided our training scores. I didn't want to talk about it at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I had been worrying for nothing. You see, I'd lost my temper and shot my bow and arrow straight into the mouth of the cooked pig lying on the table. The apple sitting in its mouth had been stuck straight to the wall.

"You WHAT?" Effie Trinket shrieks, clutching her heart as if I'd shot her instead. Haymitch spews his wine all over the front of his shirt, and starts to cough maniacally.

"I... I lost my temper with them. They weren't paying attention to anything I was doing. I was trying to show them what I could do, and half of them were too interested in that stupid pig. So I gave them something to look at."

It's silent. We're all sitting on the couches that surround the massive projector, which is currently playing stock footage from some former Hunger Games tournaments. Prim is curled up in the middle couch, flanked by Venia and Octavia, who are fussing over her hair. She's earned herself quite a few admirers.

"They were practically ignoring me, too," Peeta volunteers. "If I could have thrown a weight ball at them, I probably would have."

"Still..." Effie sighs, looking at me reproachfully. "I do wish you hadn't done something like that."

Haymitch snorts. "Good on you. 'Bout time someone put them in their place." He burps.

"What about you, Primrose?" Effie asks, the only one of us who uses her full name. "How do you think you went?"

Prim shrugs, and winces as Octavia works a particularly stubborn knot out of her hair. "I don't really know. They didn't react that much either. I just remembered what Mr. Abernathy said about showing them everything I had."

Effie bites her lip. "I don't think it's very fair that they didn't pay any attention to you. I mean, just because you're from District 12, it's no reason to treat you any differently." She glances around quickly at the faces surrounding her. "That's what I think."

The Panem anthem begins to play, and we fall silent again. "This'll be good," Haymitch mutters. "As long as we get over a three this year, I think I'll be happy."

"I hope I get more than a three," Prim frets. I find her hand and squeeze it. I can't believe how much she's grown. I can't believe just the thought of a training score hasn't reduced her to a sobbing mess.

"I'd be happy with a five," Peeta comments.

They start with Disctric 1, and move through the Tributes. The Careers get their predictable scores, ranging from around 8 – 10. The monstrous boy from District 2, Cato, cocks his eyebrow and stares down the camera smugly, and I feel something stir in my stomach.

Rue gets a 7, which surprises me. She must have shown them something pretty impressive, as someone her size is normally looked over. The rest of the Tributes average around a 5, excluding Thresh, Rue's District partner. Peeta's face appears on the screen, sweet and shy, and everyone exclaims excitedly when he gets an eight. Peeta breathes out heavily in a comical fashion, and sags against the couch. Before I can congratulate him, I'm confronted with my own face.

I stare back at the camera proudly, with a high tilt to my chin. It's false bravado, and I see straight through it, but Effie says, "You look very fierce there, Katniss."

And then it happens. I get an eleven. An eleven. Haymitch actually roars with excitement, throwing his hands in the air and sloshing his wine. Effie squeals with exultation, and Cinna rubs me on the back. Prim puts her arms around my neck and hugs me to her, whispering in my ear, "I knew you could do it, Katniss!"

I pat her on the back, dazed. "But... how?" I ask weakly.

Haymitch shrugs, rubbing his beard growth. "They must have liked your spunk, kid."

"Ssshh!" Effie commands, pointing at the projector. "Primrose is on!"

Prim looks just as tiny on the screen as she does in real life. Her eyes are enormous, liquid pools of navy blue fringed with dark lashes. She stares unblinkingly, like a deer caught in the headlights, her mouth slightly parted in an 'O' of surprise. A couple of seconds pass, and a '6' flashes onto the screen.

I'm not sure what the appropriate reaction is, so I just turn to Prim and smile tentatively. "Are you happy?"

Prim glances at Haymitch. "Did I do good?"

Haymitch nods slowly. "You did perfectly. That's a good score for what we needed."

"What are you talking about?" Peeta asks, voicing my exact thoughts. I turn to Prim, frowning in confusion.

"Mr. Abernathy and I were talking about what angle was best for me," Prim explains, her big eyes turning on Peeta. "He thinks that I shouldn't show everything I have just yet."

"I thought that was the entire point?" I ask frostily. "Or have Peeta and I been led to believe lies? When have you and Prim even been talking?"

"Every night when you retire to your quarters," Haymitch retorts, "and I offer my mentoring to not just Prim and Peeta, but to you as well. It's just that they take me up on the offer."

"We're going with the Johanna Mason defense," Prim says earnestly. "I don't want to be seen as a big competitor: I want them to leave me alone when we're in the Cornucopia, and to try and take down the bigger opponents. But I don't want to be seen as such a weakling that sponsors don't even give me a second thought. I was aiming for a 7, but a six is good enough."

"You did wonderful," Haymitch says gruffly. "Don't second guess yourself, Prim."

Effie finally speaks. "Very clever, Primrose. Now, the only thing we have left is your interviews. We need to discuss your interviews at one point; it's similar to your training. You need to play an angle."

Cinna clears his throat, and rubs his palms together. "You and Prim are in for a real treat," he says. "Wait till you see the dresses that I've designed for you. The Capitol couldn't possibly love either of you more, but I'm going to try my damndest to make that happen."

I still haven't said anything after Haymitch's outburst. Prim and Peeta stand, yawning. "I think I'm going to get an early night's sleep, then," Peeta says, avoiding my gaze. "I suppose all day tomorrow will be spent preparing for the interviews, and if I have to compete against these two, I'll need to look my best."

It feels false. Everything feels fake all of a sudden. It's almost as if I don't know who anyone around me is anymore. I've just woken up in someone else's life.

"Good night!" Prim trills, heading down the hallway. I watch her go, my mouth still slightly agape. Not once in the time that we had been alone had she mentioned that her and Haymitch had been going over a personal strategy for her. Not once. It suddenly struck me that she'd barely spoken to me personally at all, only acknowledging my presence when we were in a crowd. This couldn't be the same Prim I had left District 12 with.

I didn't even bother with the pleasantries, instead standing and leaving the room immediately. When I made it back to my room, I considered going to Prim's and trying to talk to her, but for some reason, I stopped myself. _She's not just your sister anymore,_ I told myself. _She's your opponent._

The whole reason I was in this mess was because I'd volunteered for her. I'd volunteered to save her. If I hadn't done that, I'd been watching those televised scores from the safety of my own home in District 12.

I wondered how my mother would react to her eldest daughter turning on her youngest in front of the entire nation.


	6. Chapter 6

"No, Katniss! You look as if you're stepping it mud and trying to wrench your ankle out! Walk with poise, and elegance, and grace! Walk… walk like Primrose!"

Prim smiles at me and pirouettes in her stiletto heels. Effie watches her fondly, like a mother watching her baby taking their first steps. "It's not really that bad," Prim tells me, strutting up and down the line Effie has marked out.

We've been practicing walking in heels for half an hour. Prim had gotten the hang of it almost immediately, but I was still yet to walk the length of the line without stumbling. I'd been in a foul mood ever since I woke up, and I'd been avoiding talking my sister, even though I knew it was the only thing that was going to ease my mood.

Once I manage to make it to the end of the line without hurtling straight onto my face, I beg for a reprieve from Effie. She grudgingly agrees, warning me that if I fell on stage and embarrassed her, she was going to kill me herself. That Effie. She tries to pretend she was prim and proper and above such trash talk, but when it comes down to it, she can hurl insults and threats just as well as the commoners in the districts.

Prim and I walk back to the lobby, where we will have to wait for Cinna to come and collect us. I'd learnt that morning that Peeta wanted to have separate coaching from Primrose and I, and I knew at that moment that it wasn't just me who'd thought something was off last night. I was angry at Peeta, but I understood why he'd done it. It didn't matter. That kind of act would just make it easier to kill him later on, I told myself. It was for the greater good, in the end.

We sit quietly for a couple of seconds before I finally pluck up the courage to speak. "Prim?" I ask tentatively. "How have you been doing?"

"I'm fine," she smiles brightly. "How about you? I'm so proud of you with that eleven!"

"Mmhmm," I answer vaguely, studying her. "But really, Prim. I mean, on the way here you were a sobbing mess, and all of a sudden you're so cold and calculated."

The smile fades from her face. "I thought you wanted me to try, Katniss."

"I did! I do. But I don't want you to change who you are." I drop my voice an octave. "Not telling me about your strategy, barely speaking unless we're in company… it's not you, Prim."

Prim looks at me, her eyes filling with tears. It's a good sign. "Don't you see, Katniss? I've made peace with it. I've made my peace with everything. There's no way I'm going to win this thing. Look at who we're up against. I'm not saying I'm not scared; there are minutes of the day where I suddenly dream up a different death to the one I was imagining an hour earlier… I could get my throat slit while I sleep, or I could just be one of the first to go in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia…" she swallows a couple of times before continuing. "But I can't change it. I can't change anything that's going to happen. I have to be brave. I'm trying my hardest to think of ways to survive, but other than that, there isn't much else I can do but smile."

My heart immediately goes out to her, and I think about just how selfish I've been. Prim keeps talking without giving me a chance to break in. "You could win this, Katniss. You're smart. You're quick. And you can fight. You don't have to accept that you're going to die. Not yet. Deep down, you can recognize that you've got a chance."

Without thinking, I lean forward and envelope my younger sister in a hug. I press her had to my shoulder and try to fight back the tears. "I love you, Prim," I say. "So much. Don't you dare think you've got no chance. A girl who gets a six has a fine chance."

Prim doesn't say anything but she strokes my back reassuringly. I feel like our roles have been reversed. She's trying to comfort me now.

Someone clears their throat behind us, and I look up to see Cinna standing there and waiting. He's watching the exchange with a peculiar look on his face, and if I'm not mistaken, there are unshed tears in his eyes. Our embrace has obviously touched him more than he's willing to let on. "Come on girls," he says, turning back around. "I want to prep you for your interviews."

He leads us into the same rooms we had when we were getting ready for our procession. He leaves Prim with Venia and Octavia, who promise to give her a lavish manicure and pedicure. Cinna has something different in store for me, which I find out when we're finally alone.

"So they're going with 'the girl on fire' theme for Primrose," he tells me. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't feel anything," I reply. "How am I supposed to feel about the certainty that I will be watching my sister die in a couple of days?"

Cinna brushes my hair out of my eyes and leans forward. I stare straight at his hairline, studiously avoiding looking him in the eye. "I'm being sincere when I tell you that I am truly sorry for this, Katniss. No one should ever have to go through what you will. But I'm trying to do my job here. I'm trying to prepare you so that the public can help to give you a fighting chance."

"I know. You're one of the only Capitol people I actually like," I tell him, and he laughs.

"That's good. If I could choose the tributes that I got to style, I would pick you and Prim in an instant."

"Really?"

"Really. Primrose has that innocent beauty, a really rare spark that makes people look twice. She's the apple of everyone's eye. She has a very good chance at sponsors, so don't worry about her on that front. I've done a good job on the girl on fire."

"What will I be wearing?" I ask. "Are you dressing us alike? Like the procession?"

Cinna shakes his head, and retreats back to the rack of clothing. "No. Effie would have told you that we're going to be playing an angle here. You need the Capitol to be on your side. You need to play the correct angle to make them want you."

"So what angle do I get to play?" I push myself up and head towards the rack.

"Well, think about your fellow tributes. What angles they're going to be playing. You've got brute, raw strength, a childish innocence, a lush sexual desire. They're all obvious. But for you, we want something similar to your procession outfit. The glittering, flying diamonds, the sophistication, the raw strength you possess. You volunteered to save your sister. We're going to play on the audience's sympathy."

"I don't want to have to be likeable, though," I complain. "I don't want to pretend that I'm thrilled to be there. I hate what the Capitol is forcing us to do."

"But you don't have a choice in the matter," Cinna says gently. "I'm sorry. I know it'll be hard. But if you want to have a chance, you need to be likeable. Think about Peeta, and how well he can turn on his charm. You need to be more like that."

"Well, I'm not Peeta!" I burst out.

"I know. I know." Cinna extracts a frothy blue dress from the rack and holds it against him. I wrinkle my nose in disgust, and he laughs and puts it back on the rack. "Listen, you like me, right?"

"You know I do."

"Well, every time Caesar Flickerman asks you a question, turn and find me in the audience. I'll be in the front row. Look at me. Then answer as honestly, _and nicely_ as you can."

I consider this, looking up into his eyes. "Okay. I can do that."

"Good." Cinna turns back to the rack and finally pulls out what I've been waiting for. The dress that is going to give me my fan base. I wait till I've slipped into it before I make any judgements. Once the dress has been slipped over my head and is wrapped around my skin, I finally look into the mirrored walls, and a small sigh escapes me.

"Cinna. It's beautiful."

And it really is. I'm not the type of girl who will normally fall to pieces over beautiful things, but I've never seen such splendour. It's a simple grey colour, the kind of shade you wouldn't look twice at if it were painted onto a wall, but when it is stained into the bodice and the skirt of the dress, it becomes surreal. It's like granite, or a dirty diamond, and the bodice is tight and fitted across my skeletal frame. It holds its shape until it reaches my hips, where it skims over my skin and flows straight down to the floor, where it bustles slightly at the hem. It would be plain if it weren't for the thousands of diamonds covering the skirt. I'm whisked into hair and makeup, where they cover my skin in dust which makes it glitter under the lights. I'm given minimal makeup on my skin; a light smattering of foundation to cover my tired eyes, an almost nude lipstick and a touch of blush. My eyes are darkened significantly with lavish makeup, and the false eyelashes feel heavy on my eyelids. My hair falls in waves down my back, cascading like a chocolate-coloured waterfall.

Prim comes up behind me, and I hear her sharp intake of breath. "You looks so beautiful, Katniss!" she says in a hushed voice.

I turn to face her, finally tearing my eyes from my reflection. She's dressed in a shorter cupcake-style dress, in splashes of red, pink and dusky orange. When she spins around, she shows me that the bottom of her dress catches on fire once more, bringing back the 'girl on fire' theme. Cinna instructs me to turn as well, and when I do, Prim shrieks with delight as diamonds clatter to the floor around me.

"You're a genius, Cinna!" I say, giving him a tight hug. Venia fusses around me, trying to make sure I don't mess up my hair. Cinna holds me for a little longer than necessary, and whispers in my ear as I pull away.

"Good luck, beautiful girl. Remember, just look at me when you answer questions. Knock 'em dead."

We're guided down the hall to a small alcove, where we can see the proceedings on a projector. Caesar Flickerman is speaking, his blue hair, eyebrows and lips a ghastly improvement on the previous years' crimson. He banters with audience, and I remember the previous interviews from other Games, and know that he's there to help. He laughs uproariously at jokes the tributes make, he over-exaggeratedly gasps at the appropriate moments, and he makes a forgettable tribute unforgettable. I'm glad to have someone like Caesar Flickerman to bounce off.

He jumps to his feet, dashing around the stage like a man on fire, and finally, after what seems like a lifetime, the number '1' flashes on the screen behind him. He acknowledges it with a nod of his head, and shouts in his booming voice, "Ladies and Gentleman, let me introduce to you our first tribute of the evening!"

And it begins.


	7. Chapter 7

The first tribute on stage is Glimmer. We stand in a straight line behind the stage and watch what's happening on a second projector. Glimmer is undoubtedly beautiful, and I am transfixed by her long, silky blonde hair which hangs around her head like a halo. She wears a short, frothy pink dress with a shimmery taffeta skirt that is adorned in sequins. She crosses her long, tanned legs and leans back, laughing and smiling easily.

Caesar asks her a series of questions, and she answers them in the same breathy tone. I watch in fascination as I see the angles that all of the tributes play. Marvel, who is the District 1 tribute, is loud and stuck up, trying to crack jokes with Caesar and talking himself up the audience constantly. I detest him already after three minutes. Clove, who is the District 2 tribute, is quiet but silently ruthless. I don't even have to listen for the entire three minutes to know that she is deadly. Caesar brings up her score and asks her how she managed it, but Clove simply smiles and says, "You'll see."

The monstrous boy from District 2 is full of fake smiles and chilly grins. It's almost as if he's trying to be all of the Careers wrapped into one. His tight pants and dressy shirt strain against his muscles, and he sits in a way that shows how broad and powerful his arms are. "He'll have sponsors all over him," Peeta mutters in my ear, and I jump slightly.

"Peeta! I didn't even see you there!" I involuntarily take a step back, and look him up and down. For lack of better words, he looks beautiful. He's so smartly dressed, and his hair is slicked back and neat.

He seems to be thinking the same thing. "Wow, Katniss," he manages, which elicits a rare smile from me.

The rest of the interviews pass without much of note. The girl who I had suspected of listening in to my conversations was interesting to watch; her pointed face and sly eyes made me think of a fox. She placed her hands in her lap and clasped them together, and answered questions in a calculated manner. I remembered watching her blitz through her memory training.

Rue, the District 11 tribute, is dressed in a sweet little yellow dress, which is offset by her chocolate-coloured skin. She looks very nervous, and is wringing her hands over and over, even though she tries to sit up straight and proud. I'm instantly reminded of Prim.

Her partner, the deadly Thresh, is almost completely silent for his interview. Caesar tries to get him to open up, joking and laughing and making a big deal out of all of his answers, but nothing works. I find myself getting angry that Thresh can be so unlikable, yet it works so well for him. He'll still have plenty of sponsors lining up to help him out in the arena. I'll actually have to try.

One question that Caesar continually asks all of the tributes is "Why do you think you can win the 74th annual Hunger Games?"

Glimmer answers with her perfunctory laugh, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "Because I'm better than everyone."

Clove stares directly at the audience, and leans forward slightly. "I can kill someone without blinking an eye."

"I'm strong, fast and I'm ready for this," Cato declares.

Foxface considers the question, and says softly, "I'm smart."

The female tribute from District 9 shrugs her slim shoulders and says uncertainly, "I don't know. Because I can hunt." I'm dubious, and I reason that if she's stupid enough to admit that she can hunt on live television, then she isn't smart enough to survive the bloodbath.

Rue exhales shakily. "I'm small, but I'm fast. They'll have to catch me if they want to kill me."

Thresh remains silent until Caesar probes him again. "Because I have to."

Before I know it, I'm being ushered onto the stage and Caesar is welcoming me. The crowds applause echoes in my ears and I feel as if I've gone deaf. I can see Caesar's lips moving, but no sound is coming out. "Huh?" I stammer.

Caesar laughs uproariously as if I've said the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Katniss Everdeen! One of our beautiful tributes from District 12. Tell me, Katniss, what's your favourite thing about the Capitol so far?"

_Nothing,_ I thought. _I hate all of you and what you stand for._ "The stew," I manage.

The crowd roar with approval. "Oh, it's my absolute favourite," Caesar assures me. His blue eyebrows wriggle up and down on his face like demented caterpillars. I tear my gaze from him and look out at the audience. Immediately, I catch sight of Cinna, who is dressed in a dazzling gold suit that matches his trademark eyeliner. It calms me down, and I take a deep breath before turning back.

Caesar is holding his portly belly and trying to suck it in. The audience is clapping and cat-calling. He flaps his hands a couple of times and turns back to me. "So. Katniss me about that eleven in training!"

The crowd roars again. I begin to think I'll never get a chance to speak, if the audience keep on screaming. "Oh, Caesar," I say, my heart pounding. "What can I say? I guess the Gamemakers liked what they saw."

Caesar leans forward. "But what did you do? How did you impress the Gamemakers so much?"

I glance out at the audience, and I see the Gamemaker who tripped backwards into the punch bowl. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," I say. "It's a secret, right?"

"Right!" The Gamemaker shouts out. "She's not allowed to say!"

We laugh like it's all a big joke. "Now, if I may say, that dress is absolutely gorgeous!" Caesar cries. "Your stylists are amazing! It's similar to the dress you wore in the opening ceremony, isn't it?"

"Yes, Caesar," I say. "But that isn't the only thing that's similar."

His blue brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"Would you like to see?" I ask dramatically, standing and teetering on my heels.

Caesar doesn't miss a beat. "Well, come on, do you want to see?" he addresses the crowd, and they reply with gusto.

I take a couple of steps towards the centre of the stage, lift the train of my dress and begin to turn. The hem of the dress begins to disintegrate, throwing off dazzling diamonds into the crowd, sending them skidding across the floor and throwing shards of crystal light into the air. The audience gasp, and I can hear Caesar booming behind me, "Wonderful!"

I finally stop when I become to dizzy, and stagger back to the couch. Caesar catches and steadies me, and we giggle together like a couple of schoolgirls. He helps me sit, and then claps a couple of times to get the attention of the crowd back.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant. Now, Katniss. I have something quite serious to ask you. The time is almost up. I want to talk about the reaping. When they called your sister's name on stage. What was going through your head?"

I'm not expecting this question. I had been at the start, but I thought I might have escaped it. "I just wanted to protect her," I say, looking down.

Caesar nods gravely. "And when they pulled her on stage as well? To become a tribute alongside you?"

_It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. You're tearing my family apart again for sport._ "I felt powerless. As if I couldn't help her. Even volunteering backfired on me, and now instead of watching one daughter die, my mother is going to be sitting at home, watching her only children slaughtered by other children."

I catch sight of Cinna, and he shakes his head slightly. I realise I'm not sounding very likeable now. "But I understand the advantage the Gamemakers have given us by allowing us three tributes. And they're helping me keep my sister alive by letting me become a tribute alongside. I'm grateful for that opportunity." I want to choke on my words. "This will be the year that District 12 has a victor."

The crowd slowly begins to clap, and I see some of them brushing unshed tears from their eyes. My sob story may have worked.

Caesar stands, and grabs my arm. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Katniss Everdeen, one of our three tributes from District 12."

I leave the stage and almost immediately am encompassed by a flurry of people. We head for the hall again to watch Prim's interview. Peeta squeezes my hand as Prim makes her way onto the stage, smiling shyly and looking down.

Caesar waits till she sits before beginning to speak. "So, Primrose! Or do you prefer Prim?"

"Prim is fine," she says shakily. The audience titter, and I hear a couple of oohs and aahs.

"Okay, Prim. Did you see your big sister do her interview just before?"

"I was watching on the projector behind the stage," Prim replies. She laces her fingers together and looks out at the audience. "She did really well."

"That she did. How do you feel about it having to compete against her?"

Prim relaxes back into the chair, and I can see Cinna has given her the same advice to calm herself down. "I don't really see it as if I'm competing against my sister. I feel like we're kind of doing it together."

Prim's normally quiet voice is magnified like a machine gun. You can hear a pin drop in the room. "That's a good way to look at it," Caesar says encouragingly. "Tell me, what do you think will be your greatest asset in the arena?"

"My sister," Prim replies immediately. "I know that she'll be there for me the whole way."

Caesar sighs, holding his hand over his heart. "Sisterly love. It's a beautiful thing. I've never liked my sister that much, so it's a foreign idea, but nevertheless, I admire your loyalty, young Prim."

The audience laugh as Caesar quickly recalls a funny anecdote about his supposedly wretched sister, which gives Prim a moment to collect her thoughts. "She's doing really well," Peeta says in my ear.

"Do you think it'll also be a downfall, having your sister there with you? I mean, you can't be looking over each other's shoulders the entire time. Will it be a distraction?"

"I think we balance each other," Prim answers.

"Have you given any thought to how it will turn out? I mean, there can only be one victor of the Hunger Games! What if the remaining competitors are just you and your sister?"

"Whatever has to be done, we'll do," Prim says carefully, and I silently applaud her answer. It's ambiguous; let the Capitol try to figure out what she meant by it.

"Your time is nearly up, Prim. I just want to ask you one final question. Why do you think you can win the 74th annual Hunger Games?" Caesar poses the question that everyone has already answered with such clichéd determination. I realise with a start that he never asked me.

Prim straightens out the skirt of her dress. "Because I've got the best alliance possible within the Games."

Caesar nods, and stands to usher her offstage. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Primrose Everdeen, our second tribute from District 12!"

Prim rushes offstage straight into my arms. I catch her and we hug for what seems like an eternity. "You did so well, Prim," I whisper.

"I meant it all, Katniss," she whispers back. "We can win this with each other."

Peeta is called onto stage, and we break apart to watch his interview. He banters back and forth with Caesar easily, and I'm struck by just how likeable he is. He isn't even trying to win the Capitol over, and he's got them eating out of the palm of him hand. He leans back easily, crossing his legs and resting his hands behind his head.

"You're a very good looking boy, Peeta-" Caesar begins.

"-Thank you," Peeta breaks in, flashing a smile at the crowd that makes them laugh.

"-So you must have someone back home waiting for you, right? Have you left a trail of destroyed hearts in your wake?"

Peeta hesitates, and my stomach drops a couple of flights. How did I possibly not know that he'd fallen in love with someone back home? I mean, we weren't friends, but I thought I'd have at least had an inkling. As far as I knew, Peeta had never shown the slightest interest in anything other than baking.

"Not really," he says finally.

Caesar booms out his familiar laugh, and shakes his head. "Now, now. Tell me all about it, young Peeta. There must be a special someone."

Peeta looks out at the audience, playing them exactly right. It looks as if he's debating as to whether to spill his deepest and darkest secret. "Well, there is someone," he says, looking away coyly.

Caesar claps his hands like an excited child. "Well, who is it?"

Peeta shrugs. "There's no use in even saying. She barely even knows I'm alive, trust me."

Caesar considers this. "Well, how about this; you get into that arena, and you try your damndest to come home the victor, and when you're back in your district, she'll have to notice you then! Eh, folks? What do you say to that?" The crowd seem to agree, stamping their feet and shouting.

Peeta bites his lip and sighs resignedly. "Well, I don't really think that's possible, Caesar."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because," Peeta says, taking a deep breath. "Katniss came here with me."

Caesar is silent for once, but recovers quickly. He ends the interview and Peeta trails offstage, the audience looking after him pityingly. He's gained massive approval from the crowd for his love story.

I'm not as cheerful. The second he walks into my line of sight, I race straight up to him and slam him against the wall. His hand scrapes along the back of a vase, which crashes to the floor. "What the hell was that?" I ask, gritting my teeth and pressing my nose to his.

"Katniss!" Prim shouts behind me, shocked. I can hear the clicking of heels which tells me Effie is on her way.

"Were you deliberately trying to make me look weak?" I yell. "Was that what it was? To think I actually forgave you for asking for separate training, and then you pull a stunt like this!"

Suddenly, I'm lifted off him by Haymitch, who is the soberest I've ever seen him. Effie rushes over to Peeta, who is nursing his cut hand.

"You should be thanking him, sweetheart," Haymitch says, shaking his hand in my face. "He's made you look desirable, not weak. Before that, you were nothing. Forgettable. Just some silly girl trying to win. Now, you'll have sponsors coming out of your ears. It could save not just you, but your sister as well."

I break away from him, finally seeing reason. "And why was I left in the dark about it?"

"Because it had to look real," Cinna breaks in. All of the stylists are now crowded around us. "And it did. Your reaction was perfect. They'll be talking about the star-crossed lovers for years to come."

Peeta is looking at me in a strange way, and I don't want to hear about it. I especially don't want to address the way it made me feel when he told the nation he had feelings for me.

Almost as if I had feelings for him as well.


	8. Chapter 8

Sleeping is impossible.

That night, I toss and turn, trying to will myself to fall asleep, knowing that it will be my last chance to get a restful slumber before the arena. Not even this fact can lure me into unconscious, and I lie in my bed, too scared to shut my eyes. Every time I begin to drift off, I picture myself poised on the starting block, watching the count down, and accidentally tripping and blowing myself to smithereens. When that vision finally clears, I imagine standing across the Cornucopia and seeing Primrose trying to get away from Cato as he hacks at her abdomen viciously with his sword. She screams for me, crying and thrashing, but I'm rooted to the spot.

In the end, I get up and tiptoe across the room towards the door. I open it cautiously, almost expecting Effie to come flying across the hall towards me, screeching about getting my beauty sleep. It's just not on the cards tonight. There are too many things going through my mind.

As I pass Prim's room, I hear her snoring lightly. I'm surprised that she's managed to get to sleep so quickly, especially when she knows that this time tomorrow, we'll be either dead or trying to sleep without getting our throats' slit. Even after our talk, I can't help but feel apprehensive about Prim. I can't tell whether it's all in my head, or whether things have changed, but either way I don't want to press it in anymore. I'm heading for the deck, so that I can curl up on a chair and just stare at the stars for a while, when a sleepy voice says behind me, "Katniss?"

Without turning, I say, "Go back to sleep, Prim."

"Now, now, sweetheart," the voice I now recognise as Peeta says, "don't you go telling me what to do."

"What are you still doing awake, Peeta?" I ask. I stop and wait for him to catch up with me. He shuffles, his feet thumping heavily on the tiled kitchen floor.

"I could ask you the same thing," he says. "Shouldn't you be resting? This time –"

"I know, I know," I answer wearily. "This time tomorrow my guts could be hanging from a nearby tree."

Peeta wrinkles his nose, and we step out onto the balcony and shut the door so we can talk in private. "I wouldn't have quite put it like that, but okay. It's a fair point though. Can't sleep?"

I breathe in slowly, trying to calm the jittery feeling in my stomach. "I can't even stand the thought of sleeping," I say. "I want to just throw myself off the balcony. Just end it myself, on my own terms. Why not? What's the difference?"

"You can't," Peeta replies, staring off the balcony into the dark abyss.

"That's just it, I can," I retort. "I can do it on my own terms."

"No, I mean you physically can't," he says. He wrenches a button from his flannel pyjamas and tosses it off the rail. After a few seconds, it pings back up, landing in his palm. "Some sort of force field. You'd just fly straight back up. Might break a couple of bones, but that'd be it."

I eye our surroundings. "We really have no control over our lives, do we?"

"Not at the present moment, no," Peeta agrees. "But we can still be our own person when we're in the arena, Katniss."

"What do you mean?" I ask him. I shiver slightly at the cold and Peeta automatically draws closer to me, without hesitation.

"The Captiol don't own us," he says. "We can still die ourselves, not one of their mindless exports. Make our own rules, you know."

"So you're saying you're not going to do what they want," I clarify. "So you won't kill?"

"No," Peeta sighs. "I'm sure that just like everyone else, when it comes down to it, I'll kill. But not unless I'm being threatened... I'm not going to hunt down 12-year-olds and bash their brains in."

It makes me think of Prim again. "Tell me your honest opinion," I say. "Is tonight the last night I'm going to spend on earth with my sister?"

"It's a hard question," he says. "And I don't feel right answering it. She could very well win the Games. You can't predict these things."

"But how could she honestly go up against the Careers, Peeta?" I can feel desperation creeping into my voice. "She must be scared out of her mind right now."

Peeta doesn't reply; instead, he turns away slightly,

"Peeta?" I try again. "I can't even imagine what's going through her head." In a moment of intimacy, I put my hand on his shoulder. He turns back at my touch.

"To tell you the truth, Katniss, I think she's handling it all well," he says hesitantly. "I don't understand why. She's completely different from the girl we got on the train with. That night, she kept bursting into tears and couldn't stop shaking. Now all of a sudden she's working out strategies with Haymitch and sleeping soundly?" He gets these sentences out in a rush, almost as if he's been dying to say them. "Something's not right."

"Something isn't right," I repeat. "What the hell do you mean? She's Primrose. She's the same girl." I don't want to say that everything he thinks is the same as my own thoughts. "She might have toughened up a little bit, but she's old for her age."

Peeta is shaking his head. "No. And I know you know what I'm saying. I've seen the way you look at her lately; almost as if you don't recognize her." He sees the expression on my face and shakes his head again. "Forget it. Forget I said anything."

It's a tense moment. "Maybe it's the food?" I say, attempting for some light-hearted laughter. Peeta obliges, but the easy moment is over too quickly. "I'm embracing the change, Peeta. If she's getting tougher, it means I won't have to look out for her as much. I'm scared enough for myself, let alone for her as well. I can't be angry at her because she's accepting what's happening. I can't afford to think like that."

Peeta moves closer, and we're almost nose-to -nose. "There's nothing else we can do about it, Katniss," he says softly. Our lips are so close together that I feel dizzy. "All we can do is try and stay alive and make it back to our district." His breath smells minty and fresh, like spearmint. I move back from him, trying to clear my head from his intoxicating scent. What the hell am I doing? I can't be thinking like this at such a crucial point.

I clear my throat and climb to my feet. "Right."

He looks confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You didn't do anything wrong, Peeta." I head back inside, and I hear his footsteps behind me, following. I quicken my pace, and when I close my bedroom door and climb into bed, Peeta bursts in a second later. I throw the covers over my head, and I feel his weight near my legs as he sits on the edge of my bed.

"Your room is bigger than mine," he comments.

"I'll swap you tomorrow night," I say, my reply muffled by the blankets. He pulls them back down from my head and brushes my bangs from my face.

"Try to get a good night's sleep," he says. He leans forward, and just when I think he's going to try to kiss me, I feel his lips press against my forehead. "Try to stop thinking. Just sleep." The baker's innocent son is just as virtuous and gentlemanly as he is portrayed on television. He gets up and heads for the door.

"Peeta?" I call.

He turns back. "Sweetheart?" he mimics, furrowing his brow like Haymitch does.

"Did you mean what you said in your interview? About me?"

He's caught off-guard. He clearly wasn't expecting me to address the issue so casually. "Every word," he says solemnly.

I try to ignore the butterflies crashing around my stomach, and chalk it up to nerves for tomorrow. This isn't the Katniss Everdeen who lives in District 12. That Katniss can shoot an arrow through the eye of a rabbit without blinking; she can pass the peasants who beg in the Hob without a stir of sympathy, and certainly doesn't care about love. "You never thought to say anything earlier?" I challenge him.

He shrugs and smiles sadly. "Go to sleep, Katnisss. You need to sleep for two people, remember? If you're planning on being Prim's eyes as well as your own, then you're going to need to rest."

"Leave me be, then!" I say. "I can't sleep with you standing in the doorway chatting your head off."

"I'm going," he answers. "I need my sleep, too. Don't think you're the only one who's looking out for two people in the arena, Katniss." He closes the door quietly. His footsteps down the hallway to his room match the beating of my heart.


	9. Chapter 9

I dream of Gale.

It makes me feel guilty, almost as if I've forgotten him, and the truth is that I've barely given him a thought in the last couple of days. We're back in the woods, and I'm climbing a tree, expertly positioning my feet on the sturdier branches of a withered elm, aiming my quivering arrow at a quail's nest. Gale is below me, muttering reassuring things. He's just as eager to have quail eggs as I am. Suddenly, the branch I'm precariously balanced on cracks, and I'm sent tumbling to the ground. Gale catches me, holding me in his strong arms, in the nick of time. I'm so close to the ground that my loose hair is brushing the stones. He places me down gently and moves closer, so that his lips are only centimetres from mine. I close my eyes and he moves in, crushing my mouth with his, and tightening his grip. I run my hands over his chest, wanting the moment to never end. When it does, and he breaks away, I open my eyes slowly, and gasp in surprise. It's no longer Gale in front of me, but Peeta, and before I can react, he pulls me back in for another kiss. I don't resist, and this kiss is just as explosive and intense as my kiss with Gale. His fingers bunch my hair together, and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. It lasts for seconds, minutes, hours, before I finally pull away. But when I look up, it's no longer Peeta; it's Cato, and he's smiling, bringing down his sword and aiming for my neck –

I wake up drenched in sweat and clenching the covers in my fists. It takes me a second to assess my surroundings, and it hits me. Today is the day. It all beings in a couple of hours. The 74th annual Hunger Games.

I try to eat as much as I can at breakfast, knowing that it will be my last fulfilling meal for a while, but it's difficult. I sit next to Peeta, but we only acknowledge each other pleasantly at the beginning of the meal, and let Effie carry the rest of the conversation. I notice he too can only handle a couple of fried potatoes and a bowl of tomato soup. When Prim reaches over me to get a fourth helping from the soup tureen, I try not to look at Peeta. I don't want to see his face, because I know he's undoubtedly thinking that Prim's appetite hasn't lessened.

"So this will be the last time we see each other, kids," Effie says, breaking into my thoughts. I glance up at her, and the woman in the peach coloured two-piece suit is holding back tears.

"Aren't you and Mr. Abernathy going to be with us on the way to the arena?" Prim asks.

Haymitch shakes his head, and I notice his glass is full of apple juice, not tequila. "Your stylists will travel with you and be with you up until the moment you're in the arena, but we travel directly to the Capitol where the crowds will be lining up."

Prim slurps her last spoonful of soup and begins to attack the sugared strawberries. I watch her carefully, and speak before I can stop myself. "Prim, you're going to make yourself sick with all the rich food," I admonish.

She wipes her mouth with a napkin, but there's still sugar dotting her lips. "I'm trying to fill up," she says. "Mr. Abernathy said I should eat as much as I possibly can at breakfast."

Haymitch nods. "When you feel sick, then you're on the right track. This'll be your last decent meal for a while, Katniss. Eat up."

I wrap some of the meatballs in napkins and make a show of tucking them into my jacket. Peeta does the same. Saying goodbye is difficult, and Effie actually does begin to cry. She hugs the both of us, telling us tearfully that we've been the best tributes she's ever had. "Who knows!" she cries, waving her hanky in the air. "One of you could win these Games. Maybe next year I'll get promoted to a better district!" She effectively wipes out any stirring feelings I had for her, and hurries away.

Haymitch awkwardly claps Peeta on the shoulder, gives me a tight nod and ruffles Prim's hair. "Remember," he says. "As soon as you're allowed to move, get away from the Cornucopia. Don't bother with trying to grab anything; the Careers will make sport of you. Just get out of there and find a water source, then lay low. Don't be stupid about this." His voice breaks slightly, and clears his throat. "Stay alive. I'll do the rest."

We all nod solemnly, and the next thing I know, we're on our way to the arena. We're strapped into individual seats on a plane, separated by districts. I sit next to Prim, with Peeta on my other side, and listen as Prim talks to the young girl from District 11. They are the only ones who speak on the ride there. Cato and Clove both stare straight ahead, their arms crossed over their chests. Marvel is sprawled in his seat, his long legs dangling on the floor. Glimmer is twisting her hair around her finger, staring down all the other contestants. She makes eye contact with me several times, and I try not to look away, but eventually I have to. As I stare around at the other tributes, I see a sea of worried, pinched faces. Faces belonging to kids who will be dead within two hours.

Cinna dresses me in the same clothes that every other tribute will wear. "They won't have diamonds flying out of them, but they'll do," he tells me, helping me shrug into the lightweight standard issue jacket. He braids my hair back for me, trying to calm my nerves and keep a light-hearted stream of chatter going. Prim is in a different room, with a random Capitol stylist. I wonder what's going through her head at this exact moment.

"I brought you something," Cinna says, brushing my cheek with his fingers. I look at him blankly, because the only thing on my mind right now is whether or not my death will be quick. "You never arrive with a token, so I thought I'd give you one. It almost didn't get past the Gamemakers, because they don't allow anything that can be used as a weapon. That girl from District 1… what's her name?"

"Glimmer," I say automatically.

"Stupid name. Anyway, her token was confiscated by the board. She had a ring that had a poisonous spike inside it when you twisted the gemstone. Claims she didn't know anything about it, but there's no doubt in my mind that she would have." He pulls something from his pocket, and I see that it's an old-fashioned brooch. It's a simple design, a solid gold frame in the shape of a diamond, with glittering stones inlaid. It's the most expensive thing I've ever held in my life.

"I can't take this!" I say. "It must have cost you a fortune." I remember too late that money is nothing to the citizens of the Capitol, but still; the brooch had to be worth more than I had ever made hunting. More than I'm sure the entire District 12 was worth.

"Oh, stop it, Katniss." He pins it to the inside of my jacket, and steps back to admire the effect. "If it makes you feel better, I got one for Primrose as well. So she can feel about me spending my hard-earned money on gifts as well." He shows me the same type of brooch, except in a flame-shaped design, with rubies and yellow stones and white diamonds. "For the Girl on Fire, and her sister."

"Don't I get a name?" I ask, only half kidding.

He thinks about this. "Make one for yourself," he says finally."You don't need some gimmick to make people remember you. All they need to know is the name 'Katniss'".

"I like that," I reply, and Cinna smiles in response. "Cinna? Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," he answers.

"Do you think there's anything off about Prim lately? I mean…" I trail off awkwardly. "I know you didn't know her back in the district, but she's so calm and collected. It's not the same Prim I arrived here with."

"Isn't that a good thing, though?" he asks. "Wouldn't you rather she became like that?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I feel like I've had this conversation hundreds of times, but I can't stop thinking about it. So you think she's okay? I mean, she's not becoming… a little like a Career? You know, focused on strategies and killing?"

Cinna laughs. "We're talking about Prim, right? The same Prim who shouted at Haymitch because he wore that sheepskin jacket to dinner the other night, and she thought it was vulgar to wear dead animals?"

I laugh with him. "You're right. I know. I'm just worrying for the sake of worrying, I guess."

Suddenly, a voice fills the tiny room. It's time. It's happening. I remember why I'm here again, and my heart begins thumping so loudly I'm afraid Cinna can hear it. I look at him wildly, and his face is full of sympathy and if I'm not mistaken, regret.

"I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, Katniss," he says quietly. "To you and your sister. It isn't right. None of it is."

"I know," I whisper.

He ushers me backwards towards the tube which will send me up into the arena. "Remember," he says. "I'm not allowed to place bets, but if I could, I'd bet on you."

"Not Peeta?" I ask. "Not Prim, or Cato, or Marvel?"

"You," he repeats, giving me one last kiss on the cheek. I'm sealed inside the tube, and our goodbye is cut short. I'm moving upwards, and Cinna's sad smile is slowly becoming a distant memory. A blinding white light hits me, and suddenly I'm in the arena. My eyes gradually focus, and I try to take in the surroundings as fast as I can. The countdown from sixty seconds begins.

We're arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, which I can see houses weapons and bags and different types of food. There's a lake a couple of hundred metres away, and what looks like a field of wheat directly across from it. The rest of the surroundings are dense woods, which pleases me. I know how to survive in that kind of terrain.

Forty seconds left.

I spy a quiver of arrows lying near the mouth of the Cornucopia, and my heart leaps. They're for me. I know they are. They're quite a large distance away, but I'm a fairly good sprinter. I could probably get to them first, but then I'd be right in the middle of the bloodbath. Was it worth it? Probably not. Besides, I had to look out for Prim at the same time.

Thirty seconds left.

Prim. Where was she? I look around wildly, and spot her seven tributes to my left. She's unmoving on her podium, not even looking around at her surroundings. Her eyes are trained on the Cornucopia, and I follow her gaze to see what she's staring at. A clear plastic backpack, the kind that you see little kids with at the Capitol, looks as though it contains medical supplies and differential herbal items. Prim's narrowed eyes give her away. She wants that bad.

Twenty seconds left.

Peeta. He's almost directly across from me, and hasn't taken his eyes off me. He pointedly looks back and forth between me and the forest, and I nod. I then glance at the arrows, and he shakes his head imperceptibly. I frown. He doesn't understand. I have to get to those arrows. They're my only chance at surviving.

Ten seconds.

I can hear the girl next to me crying, the kind of wrenching sobs that make you short of breath. I look over at her, and don't really recognise her. Her entire body is shaking, and I can see Clove eyeing her, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. They'll have already figured out who will be easy pickings, but crying seconds before the gong is bound to get you on that list. I try to block her out of my head.

Five seconds.

Four seconds.

Three seconds.

I can't breathe.

Two seconds.

One.


	10. Chapter 10

The arena erupts into a flurry of action. The male tribute on my other side, the boy from District 11, catapults himself from his podium and is thundering across the field towards the Cornucopia before even the Careers have made headway. The girl on my other side stumbles from her position and starts to run towards a machete. She's the first one to die in the 74th annual Hunger Games. Clove has reached a sheath of knives around the mouth of the Cornucopia, and launches the first one directly at the young girl. It hits her squarely in the chest, and her eyes widen in shock. She grapples at the blade for a second, and then collapses to the ground. She's dead.

I'm one of the last tributes to get moving. By the time I've forced my feet to start running, the quiver of arrows has been snapped up by Glimmer. I look around for something – anything – to leave the Cornucopia with. Cato slices into a young boy, crying, as he tries to crawl away, one of Clove's knives dug deep into his back. I spy a sturdy green backpack towards the woodland side of the clearing, and I head for it immediately. I need to get out of there as soon as possible.

I reach the backpack and swing it over my shoulder. A knife whizzes by my face, missing it by inches and lodging in the temple of the tall, disabled boy from District 10. He'd almost made it to the woods. I grit my teeth and lean over, pulling it from his head and wiping it on my pants. Clenching it in my fist, I head for the outskirts of the forest, and I reach the dense shrubbery in seconds. I'm crouching low, planning to watch the action for a minute or two and then head for cover when I realise that Prim is nowhere in sight. I want to kick myself. How could I have possibly forgotten Prim! Cursing under my breath, I scan the Cornucopia angrily, trying to make out the faces of the dead strewn across the grass. I'm only in the open for a couple of second before Glimmer spots me from her post out the front of the Cornucopia. She shouts out at Marvel, who is battling Thresh for sharp scythe. I turn and bolt through the bush, dodging trees and rocks. I see a flash of red hair through the trees and immediately twist into another direction. My breathing fast becomes laboured, but I don't dare stop until I've run for two straight hours.

It's the sound of the cannon that alerts me and makes me finally slow. I lean against a tree, panting, as I listen to the fire. I count 13 shots. Thirteen dead tributes in one fell swoop. Only twelve remain.

A solitary tear runs down my cheek as I pray silently that one of the dead isn't Prim. Or even Peeta. I hope that wherever they are in the arena, they're safe. I drop to the ground and sit for a moment, catching my breath, and decide to open the backpack and see what I've claimed. The green canvas houses a number of items; I've earned a couple of strips of beef jerky, an empty water tureen, a bandage roll, two packets of sweets that I recognise as delicacies of the Capitol, and a thin fleecy rug. I'm glad that I took the chance and went for something in the Cornucopia, but at the same time I can't help but feel a little ungrateful that they didn't bother filling up the bottle.

I needn't have bothered worrying; I reach a small stream of water about three hours later. By this time, I'm ravenous and incredibly thirsty, but without iodine, I have no way of purifying the water. I scoop the water into the tureen and leave it in a sunny spot on a rock for half an hour, hoping that the heat boils away whatever germs are in there. When I gulp down the water, it's boiling hot, but nevertheless the most refreshing drink of my life.

I splash some water onto my face and sit back. My anxiety has come back, and I find myself stressing over Prim's whereabouts. I feel like lying in the stream and crying until there aren't any more tears, but it won't do anyone any good. Gritting my teeth, I wade through the stream, relishing the feeling of the cool water on my legs, and make my way upstream.

I don't know much longer it takes me to find the cave. There must be plenty of them around the arena, but this one is perfect. It's covered by a light smattering of moss, and plenty of loose foliage litters the ground, ready to provide me with cover. There are even a couple of boulders around, which I roll in front of the opening, trying to disguise it so that it looks like anything other than Katniss Everdeen's hideout.

By the time I'm ready to crawl into my hideout, it's beginning to get dark. My stomach grumbles in hunger, and set a couple of snares near my new home. When I check them half an hour later, I've caught one lame rabbit, which makes it feel less of an accomplishment. I perform all the necessary acts to make it edible, and make a small fire. I know it's a dangerous thing to do when it's getting dark, and the Careers will surely be hunting, but I reason with myself. I won't let it become a roaring flame; I just want to use the coals to smoulder my rabbit.

I've finally managed to cook the rabbit to a reasonable degree when the anthem begins to play, and the seal is projected into the air above the arena. I position myself close to the mouth of the cave so I can watch. The only thing I'm interested in is seeing the footage of the dead. I'm holding back tears already at the thought of seeing my little sister's innocent face projected hundreds of feet into the sky. The thought of Panem watching her death rewound over and over, zoomed in on, dissected... the thought of losing Peeta...

They begin with the girl from District 3. That means that all of the Careers have survived; I'm not surprised in the least. The faces keep rolling through. The boy from District 3... the girl from District 4... the boy from District 5... both from 6... the boy from District 7... both from 8, 9 and 10... and the footage stops. The seal flashes up one more time and then it's over. It's over. Prim has survived. Both Prim and Peeta have managed to make it through the first day.

I begin to cry anyway, but it's more from relief than pain. I cover my eyes with my hands, because I'm sure that the cameras are catching every tear rolling down my face, and cry in earnest. I try to muffle my sobs, aware that the ears of twelve people could be listening in. No sooner has that thought crossed my mind do I hear cracking twigs in close proximity to my hideout. I swipe at the tears falling from my eyes and cock my head to the side. I hear another branch snap, closer this time. Instantly alert, I flatten myself against the wall of the cave and peer out, watching for any sign of movement. It could just be an animal.

But it isn't. The tall, skinny girl from District 5 slinks out of the shadows. She clutches a dagger to her side, her hand poised as if she's ready to strike any second. The way she moves is fluid; it's almost as if she's smoke. She's only metres away from me, yet I don't feel threatened. She might look tough, with her bright red hair dulled down by dirt, and her shiny blade held aloft, but the look on her face tells me not only has she never used a weapon on another human being, but she's not very keen on the idea. I watch her retreating back weave through the trees, and breathe out slowly.

I finish off the entire rabbit, ignoring the warning voice in my head telling me that I should be saving my food supplies for times when I will be in dire need, but the ravenous roaring in my stomach outweighs that voice. I toss the bones on the floor of the cave and unpack my rug from my backpack. Before I lie back down, I repack my things back into the canvas bag, so I can be ready to leave at a moment's notice. I realise that I mustn't be very interesting to the Capitol audience at the moment, but I don't care. I lie down on my back and rest my head on the pack, the fleecy rug wrapped around me. It takes me literally minutes to drift off into a fitful sleep, and my dreams are full of bloodshed and horror.

It feels like seconds later that I open my eyes, but I'm sure hours have passed. The boom of the cannon shatters my sleep, and I throw the rug off and crouch low. The snapping of twigs is louder and heavier, and the approaching footsteps make no effort to keep quiet. I listen carefully, and I can make out voices, but I can't discern who they belong to. I reason immediately that it would have to be the Careers, as they're the only tributes known for travelling in packs. It's still dark, but I can make out the moving shapes, and identify that there are five of them. Cato, Marvel, Glimmer and Clove obviously… but who was the fifth? I squint into the darkness, trying to keep low and inconspicuous but at the same time get a good view. Glimmer's voice is high and floaty, and she's laughing. The very sound of it sets my teeth on edge.

"- see mine? It was sensational. I mean, I've never really even used a club before, and it all happened so smoothly. That stupid girl tried to grab the arrows off me as she ran past, and I just swung it out and caught her right in the temple. Her blood just sprayed out. It was like a fountain! No, seriously!"

Marvel is responding to her, obviously trying to goad her into an argument by recounting his own kills. "That's nothing. That boy from District 5? He was my first. I threw the spear from around fifty metres away and it caught him straight through the eye." I can hear Cato and Clove murmuring in approval, but nothing that I can catch. "Instantaneous, you know?"

"He wouldn't have seen it coming, that's for sure," Clove chimes in, and they laugh to themselves, congratulating one another on murdering other children. I shake my head in disgust.

"Quiet, you guys," Cato commands. "You'll scare everyone off. If she can hear us, then she's going to be more careful. We want to catch her off guard."

"I don't get it," Marvel whines. "Why don't we just hunt down the bitch ourselves?" Their voices are becoming more distant.

Cato swipes at some ferns. He stops and turns back to them. "We want to give the Capitol a show, right? This is the way to do it. Trust me. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can use her as bait for the sister."

Me. They're talking about me. I'm the only one in the arena with a sister.

But another thought hits me. Maybe they're talking about Prim. Who is the one they want as bait? Which one of us do they see as more of a threat? It had to be me, right?

Glimmer's voice weakens as they put more distance between themselves and me. "Who'd have thought she'd be such a competitor," she says uneasily. "Even with her training score."

"Don't underestimate anyone," the fifth, unidentified voice says. "Come on. Let's keep going." I think it's the boy from District 4, but I can't be sure.

They head off in the same direction the girl from District 5 went. I hope they don't catch her. I lie back down, my head spinning with different thoughts, when all of a sudden, a looming shadow blocks the entrance of the cave. Before I can react, they're on top of me, their hands covering my mouth. "Ssh!" a voice hisses. "Do you want them to come back?"


	11. Chapter 11

The hand over my mouth slowly loosened, and I felt the fingers relaxing before finally pulling away. My heart pounding, I slowly turned around and found myself face-to-face with Peeta Mellark. "Hello, sweetheart," he drawled sarcastically, giving me a slight smile.

I hit my around the head with all my might. "You absolute snake, Peeta!" I cried in a strangled voice. "Why would you sneak up on me like that!"

He gestured at my knife lying besides my fleecy blanket. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like we're in an environment where when you hear a sound, it's kill first, ask questions later."

I allow myself to sink back into a half-sitting position. "Where did you come from? How did you find me?"

Peeta sits beside me. "I was walking through the stream, trying to clean this." He indicates to a jagged cut along his shin. He winces when I reach out to touch it. "Haymitch will be proud, I guess. We both went straight for a water source as far away as possible. I was trying to keep moving through the night, and the Careers had the same idea. As soon as I heard their voices, I froze. Lying down in the stream was the safest thing to do, because the moonlight is blinding when it reflects off the surface. While I was trying to stay still and quiet, I saw you. Just the slightest movement near the ferns and branches… I thought it might have been a rabbit or another animal, but then I saw your face."

"How could you possibly see me in the dark?" I retort. The fact that he spotted me is insulting.

He spreads his hands out. "Don't get me wrong, you've camouflaged the cave really well. I laaaahve what you've done with the place, daaahling," he drawls, mimicking Effie perfectly. He reaches behind himself into a bright orange backpack that is soaking wet. He pulls out a pair of sunglasses. "These help you see in the dark. That's how I saw you."

I grab them out of his hand and inspect them. "Do you think the Careers have any pairs?"

Peeta nods. "There were a couple scattered around the Cornucopia," he confirms. "It's a very high chance that they do." His voice drops an octave. "Any sight of Prim?"

I shake my head.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"Don't be," I answer brusquely. "She's fine. Her face wasn't in the sky tonight; that means she's okay." I don't dare mention the cannon shot that woke me up. The cannon shot that represents another dead tribute. I don't bother mentioning it because it isn't Prim.

He nods, studying my face. "I saw her in the Cornucopia," he begins. "She got to that bag of medical supplies. I didn't know how fast she could run."

Neither did I. "What else did you see?" I ask.

"I saw her get her hands on a knife," he says.

"That's good," I say, pleased. "That's better than good. She can defend herself if it comes to it."

"She can more than defend herself," he mutters. "Katniss, she's not the helpless little girl you think she is."

"I know she isn't!" I reply, stung. "But she's my little sister. I have to look out for her."

"I saw her in the field!" Peeta speaks over my voice, silencing me. "I saw her sling that bag over shoulder and hightail it out of there."

"And what, Peeta?" I ask. "What? Did she team up with the Careers? Did she steal Clove's knives? Whatever she's managed to do, I don't care. She's still alive, and that's all that matters. And if I'm not there to keep her alive, then she's got to find another way, so whatever the hell she's doing, it's fine by me!" I know I'm ranting, but I don't care. I lie down in a huff.

"I'm sorry," Peeta says. "I was going to say that I saw her go through the forest close to the lake side. If you wanted to find her, I think that would be a good place to start."

I'm quiet for a few seconds. "Thank you," I answer stiffly. I don't believe for a second that that is what he was going to say, but it was helpful. "Before I can go traipsing back through the forest the way I came, which is another full day's journey, I need to get some sleep."

Peeta responds by pulling a sleeping bag from his backpack and setting it up next to mine. He unzips it and lies it flat, inviting me in, but I silently decline by turning my back on him. He chuckles and shuts his eyes. After a couple of minutes, I give in to the cold and roll over so that I'm next to him. He immediately wriggles over and allows me to get inside without a word. I can see a smile playing at his lips, and I remember that he and I are supposed to be the star-crossed lovers from District 12. For some crazy reason, this urges me to lean forward and press my lips to his. He reacts slightly, like a buzzing electrical current has hit him at full force in the face, and then responds enthusiastically. We pull away at the same time, and he casually slings his arm over my body. I begin to drift in and out of consciousness, painfully aware that I only have a couple of hours sleep before we have to get moving.

"Peeta?" I say drowsily.

"Mmm?" he responds.

"How did you get that cut?" I ask.

He's silent. I prod him twice before he finally replies. "In the bloodbath," he says. "Go to sleep."

So I do.

The sun is shining through the gaps in the foliage at the front of the cave, and it hurts my eyes when I open them. I feel the warmth of a body next to mine, and remember Peeta's bizarre appearance a few hours ago. I struggle out of the sleeping bag and begin to fold my blanket back into my backpack. Peeta awakes and yawns.

"I wonder what awaits us today," he says. "I mean, so far, this place has seemed more like a resort than the hellhole we know it to be. The Gamemakers must be pissed off that we've managed to escape an entire day unscathed."

"Maybe they're rooting for us," I say dully. I zip up the bag and tug at the end of Peeta's sleeping bag. "Get out of there. We need to get moving if we're going to have any chance of finding Prim today."

Peeta tumbles out of the bag and I snatch it up, refolding it quickly. "She could be anywhere by now," he points out. "Are you sure you want to go all the way back there?"

"Yes," I decide. "But we'll cut through the woods instead of going back to the field. The Careers will be on their way back to there as well; they'll have left all of their supplies there."

Within minutes, we're on the move through the woods. We don't speak the entire time, fearful that our voices might be overheard. I tread carefully, knowing that single snapping branch can be a deadly broadcast of my location, and am dismayed to learn that Peeta's gait a somewhat heavier. As we walk, we chew strips of beef and some tree bark. Peeta screws up his face, but I force him to keep eating.

"Have you run into any of the other tributes?" Peeta asks as we gingerly step down a precariously steep hill.

"Not so much," I answer quietly. "The girl from District 5 passed my cave hours before the Careers."

"The one with the red hair? With a face like a fox?"

"That's her," I answer. "Good old Foxface. She's smart, you know. And so sly. She practically floated across the ground, she's that quick."

"I'm more afraid of Thresh," Peeta comments. "I was running towards the wheat fields before I noticed he was doing the same. I didn't fancy competing against him for a bunk bed so I quickly changed direction. He's the real competition, I think."

We don't mention that we're both competition to one another, but it's on both of our minds. "Once I find Prim, we'll probably go in another direction," I say.

"A wise precaution," he says indifferently.

"It's just that we'll be easier to track if there are three of us," I say.

"What if she's teamed up with someone?" Peeta asks. "Would you break that alliance, or just stay with me?"

"Are you actually asking me to choose between you and my sister?" I ask.

"Of course not. That's not even an option. Blood is blood," he answers. "But you know that the two of you can't win, right? I mean, if what you're hoping for happens and it's just you and her left, one of you is going to have to kill the other."

"I'd kill myself," I say firmly. "I'd do anything for Prim to make it back."

"You'd actually kill yourself?" Peeta says dubiously. "What if Prim has the same idea?"

"I wouldn't let her," I say. "You face the thought of life without your flesh and blood and see what you'd do."

"Sssh," Peeta says.

"No, I'm serious. Think about -"

"No!" Peeta hisses. "I mean, be quiet!" I immediately close my mouth and stop moving. "Listen."

I listen.

"Can you hear that?" Peeta asks quietly. "That sound?"

I can hear it. "What is it?" I ask Peeta.

He shakes his head. "I don't know," he replies. It's like a low-pitched hissing sound, like the kind of noise a kettle makes when it's been boiled, but lower. "I've never heard it before."

"I think I have," I answer. We stand there for a couple more seconds before it happens. Something flies past me and hits the tree directly to my left. We whip around just in time to see the bark melting away, and a gooey black liquid oozing down the trunk.

"Isn't that the stuff Prim made in training?" Peeta asks, staring at the tree. It takes another shot landing near out feet to startle us into running. "Katniss! What the hell is that?"

I don't answer him, not because I don't know, but because I'm running so fast that breathing is out of the equation, let alone speaking. We weave in and out of trees, every so often hearing another hissing splat as another handful of Prim's potion finds its mark. I trip over an upturned tree root, and fall to the ground, crying out. I struggle to free my foot, and flip over onto my back and try to haul myself up. "Peeta!" I cry.

All I can see is a burning ball of black, heading directly for my eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

I knew the Gamemakers would eventually get bored of Katniss Everdeen being unblemished. I throw myself to the ground and see the black ball skim past me, and as soon as I'm in the clear I jump to my feet and begin sprinting again. As Peeta and I tear through the forest, scrambling over logs and dodging sturdy tree trunks, I can't help but think that he'd probably be better off not teaming up with me. This attack from the Gamemaker's was meant for me, not him. I knew it.

"Katniss, I can't keep up!" Peeta shouts. He was only a couple of metres behind me.

"Yes you can, Peeta!" I cry back. "Just keep running!"

I smell the sizzling of burning flesh before I even feel the pain. One of the black balls hits me square on the back of my neck, right above my backpack, and my bloodcurdling scream could wake the dead. Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and I stumble. Before my knees give way, I feel Peeta's presence behind me, and without even breaking a sweat, he throws me over his shoulder and keeps running.

He isn't a very fast runner, and is even more impaired with me slung over his shoulder, but I couldn't very well complain. Every time the ground dips, I am jarred from his grip and bounced around. I cry out in pain a couple of times, trying to mask my whimpers so I won't distract Peeta. I feel another black ball whip past my face, grazing my cheek and singeing my hair. Lifting my fingers to my face, I felt the skin already begin to blister. It stings to cry, but the tears keep rolling involuntarily. Peeta's legs buckle for a moment, and I'm scared that he's going to drop me and collapse, but he steadies himself and spins into a different direction. We keep moving for a couple more minutes, the only sound audible the birds in the trees and Peeta's laboured breathing.

Suddenly, he comes to a stop, wheezing. "What are you doing?" I croak. "Peeta, why did you stop?"

Peeta gently set me down and gripped me around the waist. "They're not firing anymore," he says tiredly. "I think we're safe." He leads me towards the shallow pool of water nestled between some high rocks and tugs my backpack off my shoulders, setting it down. "Lie down, Katniss. It'll feel much better, I promise."

Lying on my back in the cool water feels wonderful, and I moan with relief. While I float on the surface, staring up at the sky, I think to myself that I could just be at home, in the forest with Gale. If I close my eyes, I can even see his face.

Peeta watches me from the embankment, sitting on the soil and dipping his legs in the water. His dirty blonde hair falls over his eyes, and he brushes it out without even breaking his gaze. "Don't float too far away," he says quietly.

I nod, and drift closer towards him. "What was that?" I murmur. "Was it the stuff that Prim made? Did the Gamemakers create their own just to throw me off?"

"What's more entertaining than killing you with a weapon your sister created?" Peeta answers dully. "And I'm glad your braid was hanging over your shoulder when they shot at you. You look beautiful with that long braid down your back; I can't imagine you with short hair."

"Priorities, Peeta! We can't stay here long," I say. "We need to keep moving to find Prim, remember?"

"I remember," Peeta sighs. "Come on, then. I don't know what else to do about your neck; I'm not very good with burns."

"The baker can't treat burns?" I ask. "You must burn yourself at least once a week."

"Mother has ointments and things," he says. "Or we get sent to your mother. I've seen her put leaves and different concoctions on them, but I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Prim will know," I say. "She'll be able to help me. We need to find her now." I get out of the water, immediately wanting to dive back in when I feel the harsh air abrasively hitting my raw neck, but I keep walking. "Are you getting out?" I turn back around.

Peeta climbs to his feet, and bends over to pick up our backpacks. I can immediately see what I had missed earlier. A burn, identical to mine, along the back of his calf. Also like mine, it has burnt off the material, leaving the raw, bleeding skin exposed. He sees me looking and grits his teeth. "Don't look, Katniss. Let's just go."

"Why didn't you say you got hurt?" I ask him.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Katniss, I've been hit, I think I'll just stop for a moment?'" Peeta gives me one of his trademark slow smiles, and shakes his head. "Come on. Do you want to find Prim or not?"

We alternate between jogging and walking, mainly the latter because it's too painful on Peeta's leg, although he won't admit it. The wind on the back of my neck makes me cry out, and Peeta wordlessly slips his windcheater over his head and hands it to me. I push it away, but he's adamant. "Your hood got burnt off," he says. "Put it on and cover your neck, so the wind isn't as bad." I do as he says.

Eventually, Peeta can't go any further. The burn and the cut are on the same leg, and they're starting to take their toll. We find cover in some leafy ferns and I persuade him to let me examine his leg. He makes some inappropriate joke about doctors and nurses, and grudgingly lies on his stomach in the dirt so I can see his calf. "It's not too bad," I say, peeling back the remaining cloth that has melted to his skin. "If Haymitch can rally enough sponsors, maybe they can send something to clear up our burns."

"Sounds good," Peeta says. "Get onto that, will you?"

I laugh unexpectedly. "Well, sponsors are attracted to winners, right? Killing makes you a winner in this game. If you kill me, you're bound to get some sort of gift."

"But then I won't have a sidekick," he says. "And you might come in handy every so often, Katniss."

"Why do you say my name so often?" I ask him. I reach into my backpack and pull out the bandage roll. I sluice his burns in water and studiously avoid looking at his face, which is pinched in pain. "Hold still. I'm just going to wrap it so it doesn't get infected."

"I like your name. And sometimes when I say it, you say my name back." Peeta watches as I finish wrapping and tuck the end underneath.

"Peeta," I say.

"Katniss," he replies, grazing his hand lightly over mine. My heart thunders in my chest.

I pat his ankle. "You can get up now. Come on. We can't stay in the same spot for too long. It's way too risky. The Careers might be on the same path that we're on right now."

He allows me to pull him up and once again, we set off. "The route we ran to get away from that attack from the Gamemakers was a short-cut, I think," Peeta says. "The path that I took yesterday when I left the Cornucopia took me in a big circle to get to that point – the cave, I mean. It's literally only a couple of hours away from the Cornucopia, rather than the entire day's journey."

"Are you kidding?" I frown. I had such faith in my hunting and tracking abilities that it had never even occurred to me that I would understand the direction I was travelling in. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Peeta confirms. "See that clearing up ahead? If you go right at those pines, you can cut through the wheat field to get to the Cornucopia and the lake, but you're not going to want to."

"Why is that?" I ask.

He points grimly. "Thresh has the run of that entire area, remember? We should just steer clear of there for a while. At least until we find Prim."

"She won't be anywhere around here," I say firmly. "She's too smart to stick around a place where she'll surely be caught. She would've tried to get as far away as possible. Maybe she was near our cave."

"I saw her head for that forest near the Cornucopia, right? Let's at least try there, and then you can try to trace her steps. She might have left something behind to help you find her." Peeta licked his lips thirstily, and I stopped for a moment to pull my water bottle out. I took a swig before passing it to him.

"But it's not just her who might be there," I argue. "We could run straight into a trap set by the Careers. I just don't think she'll be there."

"Humour me," Peeta says flatly.

We go in the opposite direction of the pines, planning to cut straight across the Cornucopia. "That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard," Peeta comments. "I don't have a deathwish, thank you. Ironically, I guess, because chances are I'll be dead in a couple of days. Half an hour, really, if you convince me to go through with this."

My stomach rumbles, and I strip more tree bark and chew it slowly. "Shut up," I tell him. "Eat your bark." I hand him some of the strips. I try to keep busy by chewing because I don't want to address the pain I'm going through from my burn, because I know Peeta is in the exact same predicament. "And Haymitch, would it kill you to send us some goddam burn ointment?" I shout at the sky.

Peeta shushes me, and looks around furtively. I'm immediately angry at myself for my outburst, and for putting ourselves in danger. The mutated birds in the trees, the jabberjays, mimic my cry, and it carries throughout the treetops.

We stand in plain view, listening to the jabberjays singing. They repeat my words over and over, till all of a sudden, I begin to hear a new sound underneath that. The sound of boots crunching over leaves, inexperienced clumping stomps, the kind of footsteps someone who is inexperienced possesses, trying to stalk their prey. Without a word, I grab Peeta and drag him towards a different clump of pines, trying to conceal us both. My hand grips my knife tightly, and I can see Peeta has unsheathed a weapon of his own; a small spiked mace. My eyebrows shoot up when I see him pull it from his backpack.

We wait. I'm reminded of last night, where I did the exact same thing in the cave. I feel like a coward, always hiding and not throwing myself into the thick of the action, but I remind myself that this is how you get to being the last man standing. You don't run into battle with no plan. You wait and evaluate situations.

"I'm beginning to think this was a ploy to get close to me," Peeta whispers in my ear, and I violently swat him away. The bushes rustle, and Rue, the little girl from District 11, steps out tentatively. She's armed only with a rock, which is shaking in her hand. She looks around before moving any further. As we watch, she slowly makes her way past us, and before I can comment, another familiar face darts out from the same bushes.

Prim.


	13. Chapter 13

"It's her," I say with a start, forgetting to whisper. Rue turns around wildly, brandishing the rock in her hand threateningly. She sees Prim and visibly relaxes, but Prim stares at her in confusion. "Prim."

"Katniss, wait –" Peeta starts, placing his hand on my shoulder, but I break free and emerge from our hiding place, grinning like a maniac.

"Prim! Prim – over here!"

Prim spots me, and for a split second, she doesn't even react; her features are an impassive mask. Then, suddenly, her mouth breaks into a wide smile, so wide it can barely fit on her face, and she makes a squeaking noise at the back of her throat. She launches into the air towards me, her arms spread wide to envelope me in a hug.

We stand there for a couple of minutes, just hugging each other and feeling the warm embrace. "I'm so happy to see you," Prim says, brushing tears away from her face, and then mine. Rue stands awkwardly to the side, watching us longingly. I notice Peeta still has not moved from our hiding spot.

"Peeta, come out," I call commandingly. He does so, but slowly.

Prim notices his limp immediately. "Have you been hurt?" she asks sweetly. Peeta nods, still standing from a distance warily.

Rue is behind him, and she bends down and tugs at the bandage carefully, trying to inspect Peeta's burn without fully unwrapping the bandage. "I know of some things that might be able to help," she says softly. "But here is not the place."

Prim nods vigorously. "We're too exposed, Katniss. We need to go somewhere else."

Rue opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it firmly. I pounce on this action. "What, Rue? Do you know of somewhere?"

She shrugs.

"We're your friends, Rue," Prim reminds her. "No harm will come from us. We're an alliance. Before Katniss found us, when I first saw you, I wanted to ask you to team up. We can make a good team."

Rue studies her face, and then mine. She doesn't look at Peeta. "Okay," she says finally. "I know of a spot. It's safe."

"How far?" Peeta asks, looking down at his leg.

"About ten minutes north," Rue says. "Near the shallow water pool. But we need to move quickly."

"We just came from there," I objected. "I didn't see anywhere."

Rue shakes her head. "You weren't looking in the right place then."

She leads the way as we head back in the direction we just came from. Prim and I chat quietly under our breath, no louder than the birds in the trees, which cover our conversation nicely. We talk about the events that had happened previously. "How did you get away?" I murmur.

Prim's eyes are as round as saucers. "You didn't see anything?"

I'm apologetic. "I lost sight of you right after the countdown."

"I managed to get to the medical bag." She indicates to the backpack slung over her shoulder. "I have no doubt it will probably save my life ten times over. Once I got it, I planned to cut through the wheatfield to find somewhere with water, but I saw you head in a different direction, so I tried to change course."

My heart swelled. "Oh, Prim," I say. "I'm sorry. I didn't forget about you, I promise, it's just that I wanted to find shelter and then plan my course of action; by the time I did it, you were gone. I just couldn't see you and it was too dangerous to stand in the open and look."

"I know, it's okay," she says. "I chased after you. But once you were gone I knew I couldn't just hang around waiting to see whether you'd turn up again, so I doubled back towards the wheatfield. When I passed the Cornucopia, I saw something lying in the grass by the entrance." She carefully unsheaths a sword from her waistband, and I recoil.

"Prim! Is that Cato's sword?"

She nods, staring at the shining blade. "I don't think he even considered the fact that someone else might get it before him. Pretty cocky. He didn't bother stowing it somewhere out of sight; he killed a couple of tributes, then threw it down on the grass and went to help Glimmer bash some girl's skull in."

I watch the blade glitter in the sunlight. "Peeta mentioned you got hold of a knife," I say.

"Did he?" Prim says, darting a look behind us. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing really," I answer. "We were just happy you had something to defend yourself with."

"It's one less weapon that the Careers have," Prim agrees. "Anything that takes something away from them seems fine with me. Not so much with Cato."

She puts it away and I whistle softly. "I bet he's not too happy."

"I'd imagine he isn't," Prim says cheerfully. "I think they caught up to another tribute last night. I was almost asleep and the sound of a cannon disturbed me."

"It wasn't them, I don't think," I say. "They walked past my sleeping spot minutes later, and the cannon wasn't in close proximity to me. Where did you set up camp?"

Prim shrugs. "In a tree somewhere. I just buckled myself in and got a couple of hours."

Rue comes to a halt, and scans the area. "Can you climb?" she asks me.

"Pretty well," I respond. "And I can give Prim a boost. Peeta might be a different story." We turn back, where Peeta has been trailing us from a distance. He pretends to look back of his shoulder, and then back at us. He points to himself.

"I'm a different novel entirely," he says. "Who says I can't climb?"

"Me," I say. "Where are we climbing, Rue?"

She motions. "Up."

I stare at the spot where she is pointing. A massive rock formation, with dozens of boulders and stones supporting it, juts out of the ground. Rue scales it nimbly, like a hummingbird darting over the trees. It's about 9 feet high, but she reaches the top in seconds. She smiles at us before dropping down in what I assume is a void. I give Prim a boost and she scrabbles to hold onto the rocks and climb the formation. It takes her about a minute, and I turn around to face Peeta. "Come on," I say, pushing him forward.

Peeta struggles, but eventually we both manage to make it to the top of the rocks. He carefully lowers himself down, holding onto the footholds and jutting-out stones, and I follow suit. I land on the soft sandy ground safely, and look around apprehensively.

"This is great, Rue!" Prim says enthusiastically. "How did you find it?"

Rue points up to some trees, which are visible from our position. "You normally won't find me on the ground," she says shyly. "I saw this spot from the trees."

I take in our surroundings. It's not luxurious, but we can all easily fit lying down. I stare up, thinking that it might be a little bit difficult for Peeta to climb back up, but I ignore that thought for now. His voice breaks into my thoughts.

"I think this place has been engineered by the Gamemakers," Peeta says.

"Why's that?" Rue asks, furrowing her brow.

He gestures at the rocks. "Look at these. A structure like this would have crumbled if there was too much pressure on them. Some of these rocks look like they've been almost _welded_ together. There are some gaps in strategic areas – it's not a coincidence."

"What are you saying?" Prim asks, frowning.

"Nothing," Peeta answers. "Just an observation. But the Gamemakers don't create anything out of the goodness of their hearts, do they? Are we sure this place won't collapse on us while we sleep?"

"Stop arguing," I interrupt tiredly. "Look. Prim and Rue, if you two can try and take care of Peeta's burn, I'll go out there and catch something for our dinner. We need to pool together our resources too – we just need to know what we have and evaluate how long we'll have it for."

"I've got some things in my bag," Prim volunteers.

"I'll come out with you," Rue says. "There are some plants around that can help."

We climb back up, leaving Peeta and Prim together. I admire the way Rue moves. "Thanks for sharing your spot with us," I say softly.

Rue smiles back. "That's okay." She glances back towards the little rock tepee. "Are you and Peeta… together?"

I blush and look straight ahead. "Not like that. We're just friends."

"What about all of that star-crossed lovers stuff?" Rue asks.

I open my mouth to tell her, no, that's just something that Haymitch has dreamed up to drum up more sponsors, but then I remember that this conversation is being recorded. I might be live on the television right now. "I… I guess we are," I answer, stumbling.

"You like him?" Rue says, nodding. "I know he likes you."

"You think?" I ask, before I can stop myself.

"I can tell by the way he looks at you," Rue says. "That look in his eyes, and the way his mouth is always curved in a half-smile every time you're around. He can't stop smiling whenever he looks at you."

"You could tell all that just from that half an hour?" I ask, incredulous.

Rue shakes her head, stripping a bush from its leaves. "Ever since we were all thrown together in that first training session. I get the feeling he's been giving you those kind of looks for a while. You just haven't been watching at the right time."

I understand what she means about an uncontrollable smile, because it's happening to me right now. Rue holds up the leaves. "I'm going to bring these back," she announces. "Is it okay to leave you?"

I nod. "Be careful," I warn.

Rue skips through the trees back towards our makeshift home, and I busy myself with catching fish. I manage to spear a couple of small sardine-like fish with my knife, and I find a couple of berries on some bushes. Satisfied, I begin to trek back towards the tepee when a noise to my left startles me.

It's a young boy, no more than 14 years old, standing near the trees. He's holding a long fishing spear, shiny and brand new. He's shaking like a leaf as he advances on me, holding the spear aloft.

"Wait-" I blurt out, stumbling backwards.

He's so young. So young. The fear on his face is evident as he whimpers, charging towards me with the deadly spear held above his head. Without even thinking, I brandish my knife and thrust it straight into his rib cage.

He shrieks, a loud, painful sound, and drops the spear. The knife has punctured his lungs, and his mouth and chin is already scarlet with wet blood. I dislodge my knife from his body and he collapses on me. His breathing is harsh and laboured, and finally, after he's choked up frothy blood for a couple of minutes, he is still. He's on top of me, pinning me to the ground, and I stay there for a moment. The boom of the cannon sounds, and I lie there, covered in the blood of my first kill.


	14. Chapter 14

Peeta's messy blonde hair is poking up from the top of the tepee when I return. His face is anxious, and he's looking around wildly. When he spots me, he sighs audibly with relief, but his eyebrows shoot up at the blood. "Katniss!" He cries. "We heard the cannon. I thought – I thought-"

"I'm fine." I quicken my pace and go to climb the rocks, but Peeta heaves himself up and slides down to meet me. I stare at his leg apprehensively but he barely winces. "Seriously, Peeta. I'm not hurt."

"Why are you covered in blood?" he demands. "Is it yours?" He crushes me to his chest, covering himself in the slick blood in the process. "What happened?"

I'm surprised by his over-protectiveness. His fingers tangle themselves in my hair and move down my back, dragging along my neck. I cry out in pain, and he immediately loosens his grip. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I just… It's just hit me. I don't want to lose you. I can't stand the thought of you not being in this world, Katniss."

I'm stunned into silence. For some reason, I know he's telling the truth. He's not just playing me to win the hearts of the Capitol, he actually, genuinely cares about me. It's beginning to get dark, but I can still see the tender expression on his face. His eyes search my face, waiting for me to answer, but the words are stuck in my throat.

Prim appears at the top of the tepee. "Katniss," she chokes, "what's happened?"

The magic of the moment is ruined, and I break away from Peeta and glance up at Prim. I can feel tears rolling down my cheeks, the salty liquid mixing with the coppery blood. Wordlessly, Peeta helps to boost me up and we climb the tepee and drop down. Rue is sitting on the soil, an array of leaves and Prim's medical supplies strewn in front of her. She doesn't push me to know why I'm covered in blood, but her eyes question everything. I place all of my belongings, including the blood-stained knife and the fish and berries on the ground. Prim takes my shaking hand and they sit around me, waiting for me to speak. It takes me a minute, but I finally swallow and start.

"He came out of the trees," I say numbly. "I think he was the tribute from District 4. He was shaking like a leaf. I've never seen anyone so scared; I don't think he wanted to kill me, he just wanted to live."

"He didn't have to attack you then," Peeta says vehemently. "You did the right thing."

"The right thing?" I repeat. "I just slaughtered a scared teenager without blinking."

"You did the only thing you could," he amends. "Under those circumstances. Don't think badly of yourself... we're only doing what we've been forced to do."

Rue and Prim force me and Peeta to lie down on the sand as they get to work on our injuries. My near death experience made me forget all about my burn, but the pain returns tenfold and all I can think about is the blinding fire erupting all over my skin. I can hear Peeta making little noises as he tries to contain his discomfort, and Prim clucking her tongue sympathetically.

I try to shut my eyes; I feel exhausted, as if I could pass out at any moment. But every time I shut my eyes, I see that boy, coming at me with such terror in his eyes... I see his face slacken as he realises that my knife is buried in his body up the hilt... that his lungs are collapsing, and filling with his own blood... I bury my face in the sand.

Prim opens her backpack and pulls out a little tube of salve, which she inspects. "This is specially engineered in the Capitol," she says. "I used some of it on a scrape along my arm." She shows me a small pink line on her forearm. "It was a lot worse than this. This stuff is magical." She dabs some on my burn, and a feeling of instant relief washes over me. "The burn will be almost healed by tomorrow morning when you wake up. Trust me."

"It's dark," Rue announces. She takes the tube from Prim and starts on Peeta. "They'll be showing the fallen tributes any time now."

Prim answers, "I wonder who it was last night?"

"It wasn't any of the Careers," Peeta says. "They're all alive."

"How do you know that?" Rue asks.

"We saw them last night," Peeta indicates to me. "From our cave. They were travelling in a big pack and hunting through the night. They had someone else with them."

"A boy," I say absent-mindedly. My head snaps up suddenly, and I turn to Peeta, almost over-turning Prim, who is balanced on my back, dabbing something into my skin. "Peeta! That boy!"

His eyes are as wide as mine. "That was him?"

I'm scrambling to my feet. "I'm sure of it," I hiss. "There were only 7 boys in the sky last night, right? That means five survived. You, Thresh, Cato, Marvel and one more. We know you weren't with them, and Thresh sure as hell wasn't."

"If the boy from District 4 was part of their alliance…" Rue says slowly. "Then maybe the Careers aren't far from here."

"My thoughts exactly," I say grimly. "I don't know if sleeping here is such a good idea."

Prim frowns. "Katniss, it's the only idea we've got. We're well hidden, and the Careers have no reason to believe that it was you who killed that boy. He might not have even been anywhere near them: he could have broken the alliance hours after you saw them together."

"She makes sense," Peeta says gently. "I think we should stay here tonight. Rest. Get some proper sleep, you know? Then we can head off to a different spot tomorrow. But this place is a good fallback plan. It's safe."

I know they're right, but I can't shake the feeling that the Careers are somewhere very close to us. "I don't care how cold it is, no one lights a fire," I say finally. "A smoking tepee will surely bring them straight to us."

Peeta winces as Rue wipes along the tender cut on his leg. "I'm not keen on being burned alive while I sleep anyway. No fire."

The sky lights up a couple of minutes later, and the anthem plays. They begin with the boy from District 4, and seeing his face projected amongst the stars sends a shiver down my spine. He looks just as scared in his photo as he did when I jammed that knife into his chest. The girl from District 7 flashes up next, and we realise she must be the one who died late last night. The seal reappears once more and then the night falls dark once more.

"I don't think it's smart for us all to travel together," Peeta says suddenly. "I think we should divide off."

I shoot him a look which makes him shut his mouth immediately. "What happened to safety in numbers?" I say frostily.

Rue shakes her head at my comment. "Actually, that might be smarter… we're too noticeable as a group."

Prim disagrees. "I think staying together is a good idea," she chimes in.

"What about when we're the last four?" Peeta asks. "Do we all just turn on each other immediately?"

"We'll cross that later," Prim says. "But for now, I honestly think it's in our best interest to stick together."

Rue opens her mouth to rebut, but something near the mouth of the tepee silences her. She points. "Was that there when you climbed in?"

We look up. A little silver parachute sits on the edge. I immediately claw up the wall to retrieve, conscious of the conspicuous colour and how easily it can be seen. Three pairs of curious eyes greet me when I slide back down onto the soil, holding the little parcel aloft.

"Which one of us is it for?" Peeta asks, eyeing the gift.

"Open it and find out," I say, thrusting it at him. Instead, he pulls the piece of card tacked to it off and reads it aloud. "Hang in there."

"That's all?" Prim asks, frowning. "That's all the message says?"

"That's it," Peeta confirms. He tucks it into his pants. "Open it, Katniss."

I do it. Inside the parachute is a square of material. I recognize it immediately from the dress Cinna had made me, and I bring it to my nose and breathe it in. Tiny diamond particles cling to my fingertips and to the parachute. "It's my dress. Or part of it."

"The gift must be just from Cinna," Prim muses, watching me.

"Is that allowed?" Rue wondered. "Can you send personal things?"

"I guess so," I answer, looking down at the piece of material, touched. Cinna would have seen how I was after I killed the boy from District 4. He would have seen how shaken my resolve was. He wanted to send something to remind me of who I was. I touch the mockingjay pin on the inside of jacket, and remember with a start that I also had a gift for Prim. I pull it from the lining of my jacket, and Prim exclaims happily in surprise. She pins it to the inside of her jacket, exactly where mine is. All of a sudden, it feels like we're at home, together on the worn rug in the sitting room.

We can't cook the fish because a fire is out of the question. The roots, berries and bark that Rue and I had gathered earlier are amassed on the soil, and some strips of jerky. I pull out a packet of the Capitol sweets and Rue and Prim's eyes light up; for a moment, they're just little girls again. We devour the sweets in minutes, and hungrily reach for the second packet. The richness of the dessert makes my stomach grumble unpleasantly, but the feeling of a full belly outweighs it.

"Tomorrow morning," Prim says sleepily, lying down on her back and tucking her legs underneath my sleeping bag. "We'll get up early and start moving."

"We'll make a strategy," Rue adds. "We'll figure out a way to defeat the Hunger Games. Without killing anyone. Except the Careers. I've got no qualms with cutting Glimmer's head off."

Her words are hopeful but in no way possible. We couldn't all survive the Games. But I didn't say anything. We lay on the soil, staring up at the starry night sky, the only sound the rise and fall of our breathing. I felt Peeta's arm snake underneath my sleeping bag and his fingers intertwine with mine. I turned my head to meet his gaze. His messy blonde hair was tousled and fell over his eyes, but he made no move to brush it away. He mouthed _good night_ and I smiled slightly in response. I still couldn't forget that Gale would be watching this very scene right now, unless there was something more interesting happening tonight. I couldn't forget about him, no matter how much I wanted to wrap myself around Peeta and melt into his strong body.

I watched him as he slept. I didn't want him to die. I wasn't ready for him to leave me. My gaze moved to Rue, and then finally to Prim. I couldn't let any of them die. They were my family. My friends. I'd throw myself in front of Cato's sword to protect them if I had to. I clutched the piece of material Cinna had sent in my fist, holding it close. I wouldn't let the Careers anywhere near them.

I didn't know it, but by this time tomorrow night, one of the Careers would be dead.

And so would one of us.


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Peeta.

He's moved in the night, rolling closer to me until our foreheads are practically pressed together, his arm slung casually over my prominent hip bones and his hand resting on the small of my back. The air smells slightly coppery, from the lingering scent of blood still soaking my clothes, but Peeta presses himself against me anyway. It feels familiar. It feels right. I want to shut my eyes again and bask in the moment forever, but the sun is beating down on us, and the thought of Gale watching is never far from my mind. I push away from him and climb to my feet.

Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, it's a couple of hours out from midday. I curse, disbelieving that we have managed to sleep in for so long. I hiss at the other, "Prim! Rue! Peeta! We need to get moving!"

Rue is alert at the sound of my voice and on her feet before I can kick Peeta into action. She begins scooping our things into backpacks, and hauls Prim onto her feet to help. Prim rubs her eyes groggily, but obediently bends over and begins to roll the sleeping bag into a tight ball.

Peeta groans and looks up at me. I pointedly look away, staring up at the tepee opening, pretending to think about... well, anything. Anything but how he looks when his hair is all messed up, and his eyes are half closed. He yawns, stretching, and his shirt rides up, exposing tanned and muscled stomach. He doesn't bother pulling it down, merely struggling to his feet.

"It feels late," Peeta comments, looking up at the sky.

"It _is_ late," I snap. "We need to get moving as soon as possible. We've already wasted precious daylight. Another mistake like this and we may as well just kill ourselves."

"Relax, Katniss," Prim tells me, studying my tense face. "We don't even know what the plan is for today."

"I've been thinking about that," Rue says softly. "I think we should try and get as far away from the Cornucopia as possible. That way, even if we do have a mishap, like sleeping in this morning, we should be safe from the Careers for a couple of hours. They'll keep going back to the Cornucopia to sleep – why should they go elsewhere when there are so many supplies in the one spot?"

"What about the others?" Peeta asks.

"Thresh will stay in the field," Rue says decidedly. "I know him. He won't leave that spot until he needs to. The girl from District 5 doesn't seem to be much of a threat, but even if we do run into her, it's four against one."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I murmur. I start to climb first, figuring that Prim will be able to boost herself up, when I hear Peeta exclaim behind me.

"The burn on your neck, Katniss!" he says in awe. My fingers fly up to touch the nape of my neck tentatively, and I feel only bumpy skin. "It's healed over!"

Prim nods knowingly when I turn around. "The Capitol medicine."

Peeta rolls up the leg of his pants, unwraps the bandage and inspects his burn and cut. They are not as well healed as mine are, but are significantly better. He drops the hem and straightens up. "Wow. Now the only thing that would really make this day better is a hot breakfast."

"Don't lose that stuff," I warn Prim. "That will probably be the most valuable thing you have in the Games."

We climb and shimmy down the tepee, setting off in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia. Before we leave, I quickly soak in the river, trying to get the heavy blood smell from my clothes. We try to make as little noise and conversation as possible, aware that there could be any amount of eyes on us at any moment, but Prim and Rue cannot resist the odd comment.

"Do you miss your family?" Prim asks Rue, who nods immediately.

"More than anything. The moment my name was called as tribute, my mother started screaming and crying. The Peacekeepers had to lead her away and sedate her." Rue's eyes take on a far-away quality. "When she came to see me, she could barely speak. She was crying so much."

I think of the boy I killed last night. Did his mother cry when he was reaped? Did his father press his lips into a line so he wouldn't break down? Did they watch me slaughter their son like a pig, driving that knife into his chest and stopping the beating of his heart?

Even if they didn't, they would have certainly seen it by now.

I feel queasy. I listen to Rue and Prim talking softly, their voices low murmurs, and try to concentrate on my surroundings. This is the Hunger Games, not a retreat. I can't slack off. I need to be on my guard every minute of every day. I pull my knife out as a precaution, gripping it tightly. Peeta notices and moves quicker until he is in line with me.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

I laugh, a hollow sound. "Just great," I tell him. "How about you?"

He studies my eyes intently. "Trying to take each day as it comes, Katniss," he says. "That's all we can do. Don't dwell on yesterday, or the day before. Think about today, and only today."

"Well, today, I'm thinking about my stomach," Prim cuts in. "When we get to the stream, can we stop to eat something? Please?"

"Only for a few minutes," I say. "And we should really be gathering as we move. We can't just hang around the stream for half an hour, trying to catch a rabbit. If you see berries or roots or bark, strip it off and hold onto it."

We busy ourselves for the next half hour by collecting out breakfast. Prim can barely contain her hunger, stuffing the berries into her mouth as quickly as she collects them. I don't admonish her, even though I can see that it's annoying Peeta. He stubbornly gathers some foliage and makes a show of putting it into his backpack, untouched. I frown. It's dawned on me that there is some sort of animosity brewing between Peeta and Prim, and I don't like it at all.

"We're a couple of minutes away from the stream," Rue announces in her soft-spoken voice.

"How can you tell?" Prim asks, cocking her head to the side.

"Listen. You can hear it. It's soft, and gentle, but it's steady. Like a thrumming heartbeat." It was a beautiful way to describe a stream, and possibly even Rue. Soft, gentle and steady.

We stop, and listen. She's right. A couple more steps in that direction reveals a tall, sturdy tree, covered in criss-crossing strangler vines. At the base are a bushel of fat, red berries, which I'm immediately suspicious of. Peeta leans towards them, but I swat him away. "What's wrong?" he asks. "They're just berries."

I shake my head. "No edible berries grow in that kind of formation. At the base of a tree. None that I've seen, anyway. Don't eat them, just to be safe."

Peeta frowns and leans closer. "Are you sure? They look fine to me." He reaches out to pull a couple from the stalks when a green vine suddenly wraps around his wrist. He jerks backwards in shock, trying vehemently to muffle his startled shriek. Rue and Prim scramble backwards away from him, and when I realise what is coiled around his arm, my first reaction is to follow them.

It's a green viper, a type of modified Capitol creature that has been genetically engineered to wipe out entire towns. These vipers look like lime-green pythons, but have the deadly rattle attached to their tail and the head of a venomous viper. The creature reared its head, its jaws opened wide in a snarl, ready to sink them into Peeta's flesh –

- and then the head is tumbling to the ground, spraying the tree trunk and Peeta in blood. Peeta is shaking, visibly stunned from his close encounter with death, but we don't get a chance to dwell on it. "Run!" Rue shouts, giving Prim her bloodstained knife back and tugging at my shoulder.

I turn towards her, prepared to ask her why, and to refuse to move until Peeta has calmed down enough, but she points over my shoulder and I whirl around again. Slithering across the soft dirt, underneath the dead leaves, nimbly down the tree trunks and skimming over the rocks, they come. They come in masses. We don't have a chance to consult one another about the direction we plan on heading for; we just run. I can feel their slender bodies underneath my feet as I pound across the forest, unaware of where I'm going, unaware of what could possibly be safe terrain. They can climb trees. They can swim through water. There is no possible escape from the perfect predator.

As I run, I see a flash of blonde hair streaking through the trees. It's Glimmer. The Careers had obviously been close and heard Peeta screaming, and come running to investigate. She's darting erratically, obviously trying to escape the mass of snakes beating down our path. We catch sight of one another at the exact same time, and I see the bow and arrows in her possession. My eyes narrow, and I immediately change course. I know now where I'm going. I'm heading for Glimmer.

She tries to run and string the bow at the same time, but her hands are not as expertly practiced as mine. She fumbles, dropping the bow and quiver of arrows. She stops for a moment, trying to scoop them up, but looks up just in time to see me bearing down on her, knife outstretched. She abandons her arrows and takes off through the trees.

I pick up the bow and arrow and string it on the run. I've still got sight of Glimmer, but she's created a good distance between us, and it doesn't matter – I've got what I needed, and she's defenceless. I'll catch her eventually. I'm about to take off after her when a scream tears through the arena. It's the kind of scream that can make an entire district stop in their tracks and glue their eyes to the screen. I look around wildly, and I hear the scream again – an agonizing, drawn-out scream full of pain and terror. I run in that direction.

The third time I hear the scream, I know I'm much closer. I step into a small clearing, my hands shaking so much that it's difficult to hold up my bow, and I see it. Prim and Rue, lying on the soft dirt, their bodies curved around one another. Both of them are still. They're also covered in scarlet blood.

The girl from District 2 stands over them, a shining blade drawn at her side. My footsteps crunch over the leaves and twigs, and she whirls around, alert. She sees my bow and arrow and her eyes widen. Her mouth drops in an 'o' of surprise. "Katniss, wait-" she cries, but it's too late. My arrow catches her through the eye, and she is flung backward, the arrowhead tearing through her socket. Clove, the knives expert from District 2, is dead. Another tribute, dead at my hands.

I sprint towards Prim and Rue. They can't be dead. I know they can't. _If they were dead, Katniss, you would have heard the cannon,_ I tell myself. _But then again, you know Clove is dead, and you haven't heard the cannon yet. Don't they usually wait until the bloodbath is over? And this would definitely constitute as a bloodbath._

"No," I say aloud. "They're not dead. You're not dead, Prim. Rue. I need you both." They're both lying on their stomachs, face-down in the dirt. As I get closer, I see that Rue is underneath, and Prim is curved on top, almost as if she's shielding her. My Prim. It was something she would definitely do.

I kneel, tears pouring down my face for what feels like the hundredth time since the Games began. I don't want to hurt them further, so I tentatively reach out to feel their pulses. My fingers enclose Prim's skinny wrist when I hear a voice behind me.

"Katniss."

It's Peeta. I deflate with relief. "Peeta," I say. "You're alive."

He stumbles towards me, his hands pressed against his neck. His breathing is choked and laboured, and his movements are slow and sluggish. When he finally moves his hand away, I see the twin puncture points on his neck, oozing a trail of red blood.

He's been bitten.

Peeta collapses on the ground at my feet, twitching insanely before finally lying still.


	16. Chapter 16

I immediately drop Prim's hand and sink to the ground alongside Peeta. "No, no, no," I shout frantically, rolling him onto his back. "Don't you dare die on me, Peeta. Don't you dare. You don't want to lose me, huh? I don't want to lose you either."

Talking helps. If I keep babbling, then I don't have to concentrate on that little voice in my head, telling me that my efforts are useless, and that all three of my allies are dead.

"Vipers," I mutter anxiously under my breath. I rip the neckline of Peeta's shirt so I have full access to the bite. "Drain the venom, pressure on the wound, wrap the bite. Drain the venom, pressure on the wound, wrap the bite." I've never had to deal with vipers before; they were in the forests on the outskirts of District 12, where Gale and I frequented, but we had always steered clear of the areas we knew they were in. The vipers tended to stick to the marshier areas, and we studiously avoided them, staying on higher ground instead. The veins around Peeta's bite were sticking out, and the skin around it had turned a mottled blue. His eyes were closed.

I pushed all thoughts out of my head and bent down, affixing my mouth to his puncture wounds. I sucked down on his skin with all my might, tasting the salty blood, letting it fill my mouth, then spitting it out. I rinsed my mouth out quickly each time, then went back to Peeta. The taste of the poison was indefinable: it tasted almost of gasoline, dulled down with the mingling of the blood. On the third mouthful, his blood began to taste clean. I turned back around and fumbled in Prim's backpack, which was still slung on her. I pulled out the tube of Capitol medicine and slathered it over his wound, hoping it would kill the last traces of venom. I placed a sticking plaster over the bite and then sit back, breathing heavily. I've done everything I can. He'll wake up now. Peeta doesn't move.

"No," I whisper, touching his face. "No. It's not supposed to be like this, Peeta! Come on!"

"Katniss?"

Prim groans from behind me and tries to sit up. I twist around and gasp. It's a small victory. I may have lost Peeta, but I've got Prim. She's okay. My little sister, the only reason I'm competing in the 74th annual Hunger Games, is alive. "Prim. Prim. Are you okay?" My hands tear at her jacket, trying to find the source of the blood. "Where are you hurt? Where did she get you?"

Prim's movements are shaky. "I'm okay. It's not my blood." Her eyes travel to Rue, who is still, so still. She gently pulls on her shoulder to move her onto her back. I immediately wish she hadn't. The gaping smile in Rue's throat is matted with dirt and leaves, and her eyes, glassy and blank, are still open. Prim chokes back a sob and I reach over to close Rue's eyes. As I do so, the cannon sounds. The sound brings me back. It grounds me.

"Don't look, Prim," I say softly. "Go collect some flowers for me. Please." Prim scurries off immediately, tripping and making distressed noises. I take a deep breath and reach over to Clove. Her jacket was tied around her waist, and I calmly untie it and rip off part of the sleeve material. I am cold and disinterested towards her. The material is carefully placed over Rue's throat, just as much for my benefit as it was for Prim. I busy myself with stripping Clove of her weapons; the sheath of shining knives, her water canteen and the backpack she was carrying become mine. I tuck it into my own pack, and the cannon sounds. I know the hovercrafts will be down shortly to collect the bodies, but I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I turn back to Peeta. My Peeta. His eyes are closed, and it's almost as if he's sleeping. I crawl on my hands and knees back to him, and lie down in the dirt next to his body, pressing myself against his side and leaning my head on his chest. The tears flow freely, and I don't make an effort to staunch them. I cry for his family, who knew him as a son and a brother, his friends, who knew him as a their support and their lifeline, and I cry for myself, who didn't get to know him enough. I reach for his hand and clench it in mine. If the hovercrafts want to take his body, they're going to have to take me with him. The tears have come so hard and fast that my head is pounding with pain, pounding in time with the beating in Peeta's chest.

Wait.

His heart was beating.

Peeta was alive.

My breath hitched. I jerked up, staring down at him. What was I supposed to do? I put my hand under his nose, and I couldn't feel an air flow. His heart was beating, but he wasn't breathing. Without hesitating, I press my mouth against his and begin to breathe into his mouth, trying to inflate his lungs. I push on his chest and then go back to his mouth, and mutter under my breath, "Come on. Come on."

I hear footsteps behind me. Prim is back. She approaches me tentatively. "Katniss?" She's holding a sparse bunch of wildflowers. She sees my tearstained face and immediately busies herself with decorating Rue's body in the flowers. I look back down at Peeta and gently stroke his cheek. I can't believe that this is me. Katniss Everdeen. I'm the strong and silent type. I don't cry, and I don't show my feelings to anyone, let alone on a televised game.

He opens his eyes.

It was another life-changing moment. He hadn't left me. He was still alive.

"I think it bit me," he groans.

I involuntarily laugh. I scoop him into my arms and hug him until it feels as though my arms will break. "Don't you ever do that to me again," I whisper fiercely.

He's surprised by my lively display of passion. I'm surprised as well. I can hear Haymitch in my head, pumping his fist and shouting at me, "Now that's what I'm talking about, kid!"

We kiss. I end it early because Prim is still sitting there, awkwardly covering Rue's dead body in flowers, and I can hear her sniffling. I realise that it isn't just about me and Peeta. Prim is my priority as well. I turn towards her and grab her in a hug. "I love you so much, Primrose," I say.

She says it back, but her heart isn't in it. She's still shaken. We kiss Rue on the cheek and leave her body buried in flowers. Clove lies there, her arms and legs spread akimbo, her bloody eye socket quickly becoming a destination for flies and ants. I feel a rush of anger at her, the girl who stole Rue's life so quickly, but I know that I'm the girl who stole Clove's life. I've got no reason to be angry at her; my anger is better directed at the Capitol.

We walk aimlessly. Peeta is still a little stiff, but the Capitol medicine has done its work. Prim is completely silent, and trails behind us. I know it will be touchy, but I ask anyway. "Prim? What happened back there? With... Rue?"

Prim takes a moment to compose herself. "We were running from those vipers. We – we got separated, but I saw her through the trees and ran towards her. As I ran up, that girl from District 2 came out of nowhere. She came up behind her. I didn't even have time to warn Rue. She – she cut her throat, cut it so deep Rue couldn't even scream. That was me screaming, you know. I didn't know what else to do. Rue's blood... it was everywhere. Like a fountain, just spraying the ground, the leaves... me." Peeta shudders. "I charged at her and knocked Rue from her grip, and fell on top of her. I think I fainted, or passed out, or maybe I hit my head... I don't know. It just all went black. The next thing I remember is seeing you saving Peeta."

She'd seen so much. Twelve years old, and witnessed the bloody death of a good friend. I take a swig of water from the canteen and pass it around. Peeta accepts, but Prim politely declines. "I don't think I could stomach it."

It is a sombre occasion. We know the Careers could be close, and they would have heard two cannon booms. They weren't dumb. The fact that Clove had not returned to them would not go unnoticed. Cato would be out for blood.

I spot a rabbit darting through the shrubbery, and stray off the track for a moment, telling Peeta and Prim that I would be just a minute. I'm excited for a chance to use my bow, other than on a Career. The rabbit is a clean kill, and I haul it into my backpack, and slowly make my way back on track. I need to think of a plan. Peeta and Prim will be counting on me to come up with a strategy, and I can't let them down. I almost lost them, and I never want to feel that way again. I sigh, and chew on my bottom lip as I scamper over some overturned tree trunks.

It takes me a minute to realise that I can't find Prim or Peeta. I stare up at a familiar wizened tree, and I know that this is the spot where I left them. I'm about to cup my hands around my mouth and holler their names when I realise how stupid it would be. _Dammit_, I thought, frowning. How was I supposed to find them without getting my face pummelled in as a result?

I look back up at the tree. The sun is blinding. I shield my eyes, just as something begins to descend, flickering in front of the sun. It's a little silver parachute. I glance around, wondering if it's for me. Perhaps it's something from Rue's district, something that was meant for her... something that she never got to receive.

I catch it before it drifts to the ground. This parachute doesn't have any items attached, only a piece of paper with _Katniss_ written on the front. I rip the note free.

Low, muttered voices alert me to another presence in the near vicinity. I crumple the note in my hand and shuffle towards the sound, knowing immediately that it must be Prim and Peeta, searching for me. I'm partly correct; they are only around fifty metres away, half-obscured by some dense trees. They are only inches away from one another, and their stance is aggressive. Peeta is talking in a low, excited voice, punctuating his comments with a pointed finger, jabbing the air. Prim has her arms crossed, and is glaring up at him, her tiny frame engulfed by his enormous shadow.

My palms are sweating, and it reminds me of the letter I've scrunched into them. I unfold it slowly and read the one line. I re-read it several times before it sinks in, but even then, I don't understand it at all.

_K –_

_Trust no one._

H.


	17. Chapter 17

Seeing Rue's face in the sky that night was like seeing her dead body all over again. When Clove's closed-lipped smirk had filled the clouds earlier, I knew that somewhere in the arena, Cato and his group were vowing revenge on us.

We were back in the tepee, having decided that it was the safest place for now. Prim was lying on her side, facing a stone wall, but I wasn't sure if she was asleep yet. Her breathing was slow and measured, almost as if she had to keep reminding herself… _in… out… in… out._

Peeta and I are sitting up against the rounded walls, his bulky frame shrouding mine, pulling me towards him. He leisurely plays with my hair, his fingertips grazing my earlobes and tracing circles on my neck. He's trying to distract me from the Hunger Games. As tempting as it is to just close my eyes and lose myself, I can't do it. Staying alert is the key to survival.

I won't be able to sleep anyway. The note from Haymitch plays in my head, and I keep hearing the one line over and over in his slow, slurring drawl. _Trust no one._ I argued with myself mentally. It could have been anyone, really. A mentor from a different district could have sent me that note to mess with my head, to try and make me abandon my allies. Divide and conquer. It wasn't going to work. I wouldn't leave them.

But I couldn't help but wonder.

We stay like this for hours, drifting in and out of sleep. At one point, when I wake up, I estimate that we must be an hour or two from sunrise. Peeta stirs next to me, and his hands automatically reach up for my braid.

"What were you and Prim talking about earlier?" I ask Peeta. His fingers catch in my hair for a moment, then he resumes twisting it around his finger.

"When?" he asks evenly.

I straighten up a little so I can turn around to look at him. "In the forest, right after – right after Rue."

He gives me a searching look, almost as if he can't make up his mind. "Nothing important."

"Looked pretty important," I observe. "If you won't tell me, I'll just ask Prim. I know she will."

Peeta widens his eyes, and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. I frown. He jerks his head up, and raises his eyebrows. "Walk with me?"

"Are you kidding me?" I whisper. "Peeta, this isn't District 12. This isn't even the Capitol. We can't just take a stroll to vent our feelings. You know the Careers will hunt at night. And I'm not leaving Prim by herself here."

Peeta disentangles himself from me and stands. "She can take care of herself for two minutes, Katniss. Walk with me."

I look up at him, flustered. "No! I'm not… I'm not going to just walk out into that arena. We're safe here. Look, forget about it. Forget I said anything."

He stares straight ahead, but his tone softens. "Katniss, I would really appreciate it if you would come with me. We can go for a midnight swim, if you like. Just for a little while."

Something in his tone makes me stand. Fiery, tempestuous Katniss is not the right image for the Capitol. Romantic and lovestruck Katniss is the type of persona they want to see. I change tack. "Okay. Just for a couple of minutes."

I give Prim one last look. She's shifted onto her back and is sleeping soundly. Peeta and I climb out of the tepee and shimmy down the side. He takes my hand in his, squeezes it lightly and tugs me over to the water line. We wade through until we reach the cluster of rocks that jut out over water, providing a dark corner to hide in. "We can stop now," I say, breathless. "Now what?"

"What?" Peeta asks, shaking his head as if he's clearing his mind from cobwebs and dust. "I'm sorry. I can barely concentrate when I look at you."

"Stop it," I shoot back. We're the poster couple for love, breaking all the rules of the Hunger Games and defying the odds. We kiss, and I can practically hear the audience screaming with excitement and swooning dramatically. The moonlight casts an ethereal, romantic glow over our entwined bodies, and there are hands and mouths everywhere. Even in the freezing cold, submerged up to our waists in water, all I could feel was the body heat reflecting from Peeta's strong body.

He breaks apart from me and I can hear him panting. "I'm sorry," he whispers, rubbing the nape of my neck.

"Don't be," I mutter back. I thought he meant he was sorry about our situation. About the fact that eventually, one of us was going to have to kill the other, or watch someone else do the deed. I was wrong.

His breath hitches. "In the forest… earlier this afternoon. Your sister and I were arguing."

"What about?"

The water swishes gently around our bodies. I can feel how tense he is. "I don't know how to tell you this, Katniss. But your sister… she isn't who you think she is. She's not the helpless little lamb you once knew."

"I know, she's grown," I cut in. "I know."

"No, you don't," Peeta answers. "That's the whole problem. You don't know anything about her anymore. You have no idea what she's capable of."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I say.

"I'm talking about Primrose turning into…some sort of Capitol machine. Maybe they did something to her when she was in training. I don't know. But she's not her anymore. That's… that's what we were arguing about. You can't trust her, Katniss."

I pull away from him. "Peeta, that's my sister you're talking about. My baby sister."

"I know. And I'm sure you understand how hard it was for me to tell you that. I wouldn't lie to you. Not about something like this. I – I think I love you, Katniss."

I don't know which statement to respond to first. "You… you can't just do that."

He looks surprised. "Do what?"

"Lay that on me! Your sister is a monster; also, I love you! I can't handle that, Peeta. Not now. Don't do that to me."

Still, through all this, I kept thinking; the Capitol will sure love this drama.

Maybe that's all it was. Haymitch had told Peeta to spice things up if it seemed to calm.

It was anything but calm, though.

Maybe he'd gotten a cryptic letter like mine, though. Telling him to lie to me.

Why would anyone send that?

Peeta's forehead creases. "Katniss, I'm not lying. I wouldn't lie to you."

My stomach keeps dropping, a swooping sensation that makes me feel as if I'm going to be sick. "I'm going to ask Prim. I want to know. I want to know her side."

Before he can stop me, I'm hurtling across the water and towards the tepee. I need to see Prim. My sister.

He's heavier than I am, and his clothes are waterlogged. He's still in the water by the time I reach the mouth of the tepee. It takes me almost a full five seconds before I realise Prim isn't there.

"Prim?" I hiss. "Prim? Where are you?"

Peeta is next to me in the next ten seconds. "Her backpack is gone," he points out hesitantly. "She's taken all of her things."

"Why?" I ask. "Why the hell would she do that? The sun will be up in an hour. She could have waited for us."

Peeta stays silent.

I'm flinging our things together, packing everything up. "Maybe she's gone to get a headstart. She could have decided to get us breakfast."

"Maybe," Peeta says softly. "Maybe that's it."

He's humouring me, and I don't appreciate it. "You think she's gone, don't you!" I seethe. "You think she's a monster. She isn't, Peeta. I don't know who put that idea in your head, but it isn't right."

When the sun comes up, we're already deep in the forest. We've not spoken for almost half an hour, and I determinedly stare ahead of me, chewing on a piece of tree bark. Suddenly, Peeta bends down and picks something out of the grass. He turns towards me and shoves it into my hand. It's a strip of material, part of the lining from a jacket, with something pinned to it. Prim's pin.

We crane our necks upwards. "Maybe she tried to climb the tree to see if she could see us," I say. "Stay down here. I'm going to do the same thing."

I ignore Peeta's protests. My hands and feet are shaking but I resiliently climb until the branches can't take anymore. I survey the arena, but I can't see anything except trees. I lower myself down, and then crouch a little before springing out and launching myself at a nearby tree. I latch on and continue to do the same thing until I reach a sturdier tree which allows me to climb higher. Even so, I can't manage to see anything above the tree line.

Discouraged, I climb back down, forgetting to travel back to my initial tree. Once I reach the ground, I spin around, trying to remember the initial direction I had came from. I make a snap decision, clutching the pin in my hand, and set off in a south-easterly direction.

Prim appears out of nowhere. I don't even have a chance to exclaim before she clamps her hand down on me and pushes me towards the long grass, sinking down. She stuffs her hand in my mouth and puts her fingers to her lips, her eyes wild.

"Please, Katniss," she whispers. "Don't say a thing. Please."

I obey, and follow her gaze. Peeta jogs past, crossing over the very spot I had just occupied. He's frowning, and calling out quietly, "Katniss! Katniss!"

I want to call back to him, but Prim's fist prevents me. He finally wanders off, heading in the opposite direction, and when he disappears, Prim pulls her hand out slowly.

"Thank God," Prim says, sitting up in the grass. She breathes out in a _whoosh._

I sit back up as well. "What was that?" I hiss vehemently. "Where the hell did you go this morning? You just left us!"

Prim's eyes are as wide as saucers. "But I had too, Katniss," she says plaintively. "I've been following you though, waiting for a chance to get you alone. I haven't been able to talk to you."

"You've been following us?" I ask, shocked.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you before, but I can tell you now," Prim cuts me off. "I needed to get you away from Peeta."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because," Prim says grimly, swatting at an ant crawling over her arm. "He's lying to you, Katniss. He's not the same Peeta anymore. He's… different. I tried to look past it, to chalk it up to the Games messing with our heads, but I can't trust him. And neither can you, Katniss. You can't trust him."


	18. Chapter 18

Prim's words hit me like a slap in the face.

_You can't trust him. Peeta is different._

_You can't trust her. Primrose is a monster._

Prim is shaking. She wipes my saliva from her fist onto her shirt. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I really am. I can see how much you like him. I can see… how you feel."

"Did he do something to you, Prim?" I ask. My voice cracks slightly, disbelieving. "Did he hurt you?"

Prim stares into my eyes searchingly. "I don't want to upset you. You're my sister. I love you more than anything in this world. The only reason you're in the Hunger Games right now is because you volunteered to save my life, and the Capitol messed it all up."

We hear a rustling, close to us in the underbrush. We both snap around, but it's only a rabbit. The startled, caught-in-the-headlights look on the meek animal's face would quite possibly mirror my own. I don't know how to respond to Prim's words. I open my mouth a couple of times, gulping like a fish.

"You don't have to say anything right now, Katniss," Prim says softly. "I know how hard this will be to hear. But I had to tell you… you understand that, right?" She links her fingers through mine, and I can hear her breathing quickening. "You need to keep your guard up, and you won't do that with him. Not unless you know what he's like."

My gaze travels down to the cut on her arm. "Did he do that to you?"

"No," Prim says firmly. "He didn't. I don't want to blame him for anything other than what he is responsible for." I know she's telling the truth. "I got this in the Cornucopia, fighting Clove off."

I don't respond. My stomach is aching with hunger. My mind drifts as I think of the rich gravies and stews that the Capitol churn out. What I would give for a spoonful of the creamed rice pudding that I had been so fond of during my time in the training weeks.

"Katniss?" Prim prods, leaning over me. "Do you want me to stop talking about it?"

I nod in reply. Maybe we still had some of those hard-boiled Capitol sweets left. God, I hoped so.

"Okay," Prim says slowly. "But maybe it's best for now if we just stick together. We can't split up. And we certainly can't go looking for Peeta. We can't go back to the tepee either, because he'll probably go there first to wait for you to come back. We need to go someplace else."

"Yes," I say, finding my voice. "Okay."

And we don't go back.

Our nights are spent sleeping in trees and buried in long grass and shrubbery. From our spot high in the foliage of a swaying pine, anchored to some branches, we see the Careers almost every night, moving underneath, not concerning themselves with keeping the noise down. I notice with satisfaction that Glimmer's hair, usually gleaming and cascading in sunny waves down her shoulders, is matted and unkempt. It hangs in lank clumps, oily and knotted. Even Cato's hair, which was usually blessed by the Gods, was messy and windblown. Even in the moonlight, it is evident that their noses and cheeks were a shiny pink. The Cornucopia, laden with food, weapons and other supplies, was unshaded and didn't provide the canopy of sun-protection that the forest did.

They argue a lot. The Careers were only days away from turning on one another; I could feel it. Cato was bloodthirsty and hell-bent on avenging Clove's death. "-cut that bitch's throat," he swore vehemently, thrusting his sword into a tree trunk and angrily yanking it back out. "I'll make them bleed for every second she suffered."

It shocked Prim. "I didn't figure him to have a compassionate or romantic bone in his body," she comments, making sure that they're well out of earshot before even exhaling.

Glimmer is fighting valiantly for Cato's attention, and I figure she thinks with Clove out of the way that she's got it in the bag. It's a typical District 1 female mentality; even with the threat of death and the Hunger Games hanging over their heads, they're still preoccupied with the attention of the opposite sex. Glimmer's toned body is even skinnier, thanks in part to the restrictive diet and the intense exercise that has been required. One night, we see them washing themselves in the lake, directly adjacent to the Cornucopia. We planned to sleep in one of the closest trees so that we could sneak down early in the morning and steal some of their supplies before they made it back to their camp, but unfortunately for us, they never left their shelter that night. Glimmer is trying to comb out her hair, twisting and teasing Cato with her wet body, but he's turned the other way.

Marvel constantly tries to compete with Cato, sharing stories that top his, trying to throw his spear further than Cato can swing his knife, and acting over-protective and patronising to Glimmer. He's not used to not being the alpha male in the group, and Cato's clear charisma and control over the Career pack had evidently angered him. Prim and I pass the time by making bets over who will snap first. She thinks that Marvel will kill Cato in a fight over Glimmer, and she'll kill him in a fit of rage. She tells me her thoughts in a romantic and dreamy voice, as if she is retelling the tragic love tale of Romeo and Juliet. I am less kind than her. I think when the time comes where their services are no longer needed, Cato will kill them both without a backwards glance.

We've not heard a peep from Foxface or Peeta. One night, as we try to move silently through the wheatfield, we see Thresh's giant shadow looming in the distance. He's sitting by himself on a rock, surrounded by about half a dozen silver parachutes. I can hear the gnashing of teeth as he chews his meal, and I try not to think about my roaring stomach. He's facing away from us, but the dull moonlight casts a glow on the array of items that sponsors have been showering him with. A small silvery blade, still attached to the parachute, glints in the light near his feet. A small, empty tureen, presumably filled with a soup or stew, is upturned on the dirt. We move soundlessly, praying that Thresh doesn't turn unexpectedly, but in our haste to leave, Prim trips. I throw out my arm to steel her, and she steadies herself immediately, but we hold our breath in fear. The sound of Thresh's chewing stops. We don't dare move.

We wait for a couple of minutes, gripping each other, but when nothing approaches, we breathe out and loosen up. We're almost at the edge of the wheatfield when something is lobbed in the air from behind us. I can hear it in the wind, whistling like a missile. We duck, but whatever it is bounces harmlessly a couple of feet in front of us. It's the remainder of a loaf of bread, and Prim pounces on it hungrily, scooping it into her arms and tearing off a chunk.

I don't even bother telling her off for not checking whether it's poisoned, because even though we're in the Hunger Games, and the object of the game is to kill everyone around you, I'm not suspicious of Thresh. Haymitch would be cursing me out right now, but sometimes gut instincts are right. As we traipse through the forest, looking for a spot to kip for the night, an unspoken thought settles between Prim and I. _If it comes down to us and Thresh, I don't know what we'll do._

I've lost track of how long we've been in the arena. I wish we'd kept to Prim's suggestion to mark notches on a stone, or an easily recognizable tree. If I had to guess, I'd say that we were creeping up to the 10 day mark. It's been quite long since the cannon has sounded – too long. The Capitol will be screaming for blood, and if the tributes won't give it to them, the Gamemakers will have to.

I don't mention it to Prim, but there hasn't been a passing minute where I haven't thought about Peeta. I constantly wonder where he is, what he's doing, if he's surviving… It didn't escape my attention that he'd poured his heart out to me and I'd ran off without addressing it. I wasn't even sure if I loved him back, although I was sure that I'd never felt this way about anyone, not even Gale. My friendship with Peeta had thrown my feelings for Gale into sharp light, illuminating it to be just that – friendship.

I'd finally decided to speak to Prim about it. We're back in the tepee for the first time, reasoning that Peeta wouldn't still be there. Prim is chewing a blackened groosling piece, hungrily devouring the meat in whole chunks, We've been incredibly lucky with medicines and accessibility to food, perhaps even more so than the Careers. My own groosling bones are scattered in the dirt, and my tummy feels somewhat satisfied. I'm combing my fingers through Prim's snarled blonde hair, something she loved me doing back home, and she snuggles back against me. I find my voice, speaking in a soft tone.

"Do you think Peeta is doing well, Prim?" I ask.

She doesn't react physically, and stays perfectly still. "I don't know. He's not been in the sky, so I think he's okay for the moment. Why?" She turns and studies my face. "You miss him." It's not an accusation, but a mere statement.

I shrug.

"Do you want to look for him tomorrow?" she asks hesitantly. "Maybe I was too harsh about him."

"No," I answer. "I just wanted to know what you thought."

"Fair enough," Prim replies.

It takes me around ten seconds to say it aloud. "He told me he loved me."

Her brow furrows. "I know."

I'm confused. "How did you overhear that? We weren't anywhere near where you were."

Prim stretches her legs out. "Aren't you talking about the night of the interviews? With Mr. Flickerman?"

Her words hit me like a sack of bricks being dumped over my head. Of course. He's already told me how he felt about me. It was all part of a plan, wasn't it? To win the Capitol's favour? That's all it was. He doesn't love me. He never did.

I swallow hard. "Yeah. That's it."

I can't believe I didn't even think of it before. Wasn't I doing the same thing in the beginning? Pretending to like him to stay alive? But… but what about the night before we were sent into the Games? We weren't televised then. He didn't have to kiss me sweetly on the forehead. He sure as hell didn't have to tell me he meant every word he said in the interview.

Because he didn't.

I was angry. I could feel it coursing in my veins, the deception and sheer stupidity playing in my mind. Even though I felt that way, I didn't want the Capitol knowing. I didn't want them to see the expression on my face.

I moved away from Prim and lay back down on the dirt, turning on my side. "Get your sleep, Prim. We need to be up early tomorrow."

"What are we doing?" she asks.

I close my eyes so that no angry tears spill over. "We're going to find Peeta."


	19. Chapter 19

I knew that the mercy the Gamemakers had been showing us would soon come to an end. It was early in the morning, as Prim and I packed our meagre belongings into our backpacks and set off, when the announcement came.

I was looking around furtively, my bow and arrow already strung and at my side. We'd been walking armed for the last couple of days, not taking any chances in defending ourselves. Prim had gotten quite good with her knife, as well. She'd caught the groosling for last night's dinner, but had drawn the line at preparing the meal, flatly refusing to cause any more pain than necessary. I pointed out that she'd already killed it, but my heart wasn't in the argument. I liked the fact that she'd made me do it; it meant that she still had that Primrose mentality that I knew and loved.

She's shrugging her jacket on and tossing her backpack over her shoulder when the voice booms. We both jump, startled, and our feet immediately shuffle in any direction. When we recognize Claudius Templesmith as the source of the voice, we relax and even allow ourselves a small grin in each other's direction.

"Remaining tributes. You have fought with such honour and valour. The Capitol recognize and reward the last standing fighters in the arena, and wish for you to know that your courage and determination has not gone unseen. Nothing has gone unseen. There will be a Feast held in the Cornucopia for you all, and each District will receive something. As long as you can get there. Your prize is something that you dearly need, and if you show the same skill and promise you have displayed in the arena, you may receive it. When the horn blows, you may enter the Cornucopia. I wish you luck, tributes."

The Capitol fanfare plays, and Prim and I are left staring at one another, our faces puzzled. There is a feast every year, and it is usually just another way of leading the tributes together to savage one another. They usually reserve the Feast for a time where everyone is in dire need of something – food, medicine, water – but Prim and I had no need for anything.

"What could they possibly have that we need?" Prim asks.

We take off, staying low and slinking around the trees and through the underbrush. "It's probably just food or water," I respond. "Shelter, a change of warmer clothes... anything to lure us there. It's all materialistic, Prim. We don't need any of it. And we sure don't need to be anywhere near the Cornucopia ."

"But we might be able to pick some of them off while they're all running in there," Prim argues. "And how do we know we don't need whatever they have for us? More food or shelter would be nice."

"Do you not remember any of the Feasts from the previous Games'?" I ask her. "There was one time where there was a beautiful banquet all laid out, on that pristine white tablecloth, with the bowls of fruit and stews and breads. The horn had barely sounded before they were all disembowelling each other. I think there were around six deaths at that feast, and for what? Half a plate of food?" I shake my head vehemently. "No. We are not going there."

"Katniss, you need to think about this," Prim says stubbornly. "If we're just on the outskirts of the Cornucopia, even if we don't go in to the Feast, we can at least see what the other tributes are receiving, and if we're lucky, you'll be able to knock off one or two from afar."

We don't slow down, but I turn to look at her, disbelieving. "Are you listening to a word that I'm saying, Prim? We don't need it, even if it is something worth it. We don't need that temptation."

We're nearing a stream of water; I can hear the dull trickling sound. I pull out my bottle of water from my pack and take a swig. Prim is resiliently silent, twirling the knife around in her hand. I don't want to apologise for trying to save our lives, but I can tell Prim doesn't want to either.

"Look, I'm sorry, Prim. But you're going to have to trust me on this. The Cornucopia is not the place to be right now."

"You're not the only one who prepared for this, you know," Prim says in a cross voice. "Mr. Abernathy and I stayed up nearly every night in the last week, watching reruns of the previous Games. I've seen enough to be able to make my own judgement. You have no right to make it for me."

I'm mildly shocked, but I try to mask it. "You always went to sleep before me!" I argue.

She shakes her head. "Every night, Mr. Abernathy brought out his old tapes from the Games. He wanted to give me the best chance to survive in the arena. He believed in me."

"I'm not saying I don't believe in you," I growl. "It has nothing to do with that. I'm trying to keep you safe, Prim." Inside, I'm a little miffed that Haymitch had been showing her such preferential treatment. That, combined with the added pep talks and strategy plans, really shed light on who he favoured to win.

"What about the feast from the 68th Hunger Games?" she prods. "When that girl from District 4 won?"

"What about it, Prim?" I mutter.

"She went to the feast and waited, high up in that tree," Prim begins, her eyes flashing. "The feast was laid out in the barren field, remember? Just a couple of loafs of stale bread and canteens of water. Nothing big. There was hardly any cover, yet she still took the chance and got there before anyone else, and waited. As soon as the horn sounded, and the tributes dashed in, forgetting their weapons and anything other than their debilitating hunger-"

"I get it, Prim," I cut in, but she holds up her hand.

"-and they grabbed the food and water and ran straight back out. Minutes later, the cannons start exploding like fireworks. All of them, dead. All except the girl in the tree, who had gotten there early and poisoned the bread and water with nightlock and juneberries."

"So what, Prim?" I ask. "What do you want to do? Storm the Cornucopia early and poison everything? I know you've got the knowledge and maybe even the resources, but we can't take the chance. Cato could be waiting in the bushes, poised with his spear. It's just not a risk I'm willing to take."

"I'm not saying I want to do that," Prim replies. "I'm saying she took a risk, and it paid off. Playing it safe was okay until now. Now we're in the last remaining eight tributes. It's time to think on the offensive."

She's right. But the tricky thing is, so am I. We reach the stream and stop to fill our bottles. Prim begins the process to purify the water, and continues talking. "I know where you're coming from, Katniss. I don't want to rush into anything either – this isn't something that can be rushed. But we need to take a chance." She looks away, capping the bottles. "For Rue."

Her words strike a chord. Rue would never be able to take a chance again. She'd never get to fall in love, have babies, grow old… things that were natural gifts from the world were denied to her. She died at the age of twelve, her throat cut and lying face down in the dirt. I pictured her parents watching her death televised on live Capitol stream… seeing their little girl, their baby, getting cut so severely that her vocal chords were sliced neatly… watching her falling into the dirt and staying there until a hovercraft picked up her body and threw it into a plain wooden coffin, and then shipped it back to her district. It made my blood boil. The plain disregard they had for our lives. I clench my fists at my side, and Prim notices, reaching out to touch my shoulder gently. The anger I felt wasn't directed at the remaining tributes or the dead ones, not even Clove, who had been the one to end her life. It was aimed at the Capitol, but the only way I could vent the anger was on the tributes who were currently making their way to the Cornucopia. I held Prim's hand in mine, and squeezed it tightly. I was going to make sure my mother never had to go through what Rue's parents had. Prim was making it back to our district, even if it meant tumbling headfirst into the bloody battle at the Feast.

"Okay," I say, swallowing hard. "We'll go. But you will follow everything I say, and every single direction that I give you. Understood?"

Prim nods, and we resume walking. If we kept our pace, we'd reach the Cornucopia in under a half hour. As we walked, we formed a tentative plan of attack, one that I felt would still keep Prim safe. Thoughts of Peeta had been pushed from my mind for several precious minutes, but the mention of the Feast had made me wonder whether it would draw him in as well. Was there anything that he needed desperately? Would he be stupid enough to go against Cato, Glimmer and Marvel for something as unnecessary as a blanket? I hoped he wasn't. Would we meet up again on the way? Would he try to find me? I hated how the questions hung in the air.

I hear the slightest sound from behind us, like a muffled cough. Prim must hear it as well, as we both spun on our feet at the same time, weapons brandished. I could have sworn I saw a flash of red hair in the corner of my eye, and my thoughts immediately turned to Foxface. Was she following us? What did she want? Was she stalking us until she got closer, and then… I shake my head violently, trying to clear it. Prim looks at me with thinly-veiled concern. "Are you okay? It must have been a rabbit or something."

I nod, but I can't clear my mind. The Games have made me unbearably paranoid, and every single sound and movement is magnified tenfold in my mind. Suddenly, I just want for the Games to be over. I'm tempted to climb a tree and throw myself off, impaling my body on sharp branches or rocks. But I could never do it to Prim.

I'm shifty, darting looks over my shoulder and whirling around at the slightest sound. The crossbow in my hands is trembling slightly. Prim keeps the knife outstretched.

We're near the Cornucopia. The only sound is the shallow rise and fall of our breath, and the birds singing in the trees. Silently, we pick a tree and begin to climb, putting our first phase of the plan into motion. We're almost halfway up when the horn blows. We freeze, and turn to look at one another. It's thrown us off. We had assumed we would have plenty of time to sit high and survey our surroundings, but the Gamemakers have a different idea in mind. They want to throw us together, and catching us off guard is their best chance. I cuss quietly to myself and try to steady my grip on the trunk of the tree, twisting around to see into the Cornucopia.

It takes my eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the glare of the sun. The horn had blown only seconds earlier, but Foxface is already halfway to the table laden with goods, streaking across the grass like a plucky ginger cat. She reaches the table and swipes the backpack with the red '5' on it, and keeps running. She's heading in the direction of the wheatfield, either forgetting that it is Thresh's territory, or simply not caring. His enormous bulk suddenly appears, and he skulks across the grass, blocking the wheatfield. Foxface skids to a stop and immediately changes direction without hesitation, her head whipping around, searching for another escape. Thresh charges towards the table, and as Foxface passes it again, she picks up the backpack with the '12' on it, and slings it over her shoulder.

It happens in seconds. Peeta darts out of the outskirts of the field, and heads straight for Foxface, his eyes trained on the stolen backpack. I hear Prim suck in her breath, and we start to scramble down the tree trunk. By the time I hit the forest floor, Peeta has closed the distance between them significantly, but another obstacle has appeared.

The Career pack emerge from the trees, weapons brandished. Marvel leads the group, his spear held aloft and a determined look on his face. He pulls his hand back and heaves the spear.

It whistles through the air, and Prim and I watch in horror as it heads straight for Peeta's turned back.


	20. Chapter 20

The Capitol would undoubtedly be on their feet, roaring with excitement, I thought numbly. This could be the endgame that they've all been waiting for. In less than two minutes, they could have their victor. It could all end, right now.

The spear makes a peculiar, tinny sound as it whips through the wind. Marvel is presumptuously pleased with himself, and lets out war-cry of triumph.

Unexpectedly, Thresh calls out in his deep, resonating baritone. It is the kind of voice that makes you stop and listen. "Duck!" Peeta immediately obliges, slamming into the ground at such fierce velocity that it appears as if an invisible being has body-slammed him. The spear misses him by mere centimetres and sails over his outstretched body. It lodges itself squarely in the centre of Foxface's back. She lets out an _oof!_ and drops. The things she had been carrying spill from her hands and roll onto the grass. Even if she lived, she would be paralysed for the rest of her life. The spear has severed her spinal cord, and although she isn't moving, she's still alive. The cannon hasn't sounded yet. Strong, independent Foxface whimpers, crying in pain, splayed on the ground. It is a distressing sound, coming from someone who tried so hard to control every emotion and weakness.

Only 5 seconds have passed.

The Cornucopia once more erupts into total chaos.

Peeta struggles to his feet, shocked. From my position in the safety of the trees, I launch an arrow towards the Career pack. It catches Marvel through the cheek, and he claps his hand to his face and lets out a garbled and anguished howl of pain. Cato and Glimmer are staring at him, and for the first time during the Games, they appear to be unsure of themselves. I try to line up another shot, but he's flailing so wildly that I can't line up a direct hit. He breaks the arrow savagely, part of it still buried deep in his face. He tosses it to the ground. Cursing, I rocket through the trees and burst into the clearing, brandishing my bow. Prim shouts something unintelligible at me, and joins me seconds later. I fire off another arrow, and it finds its mark, digging into Marvel's neck. He catapults backwards and twitches for a brief moment as he bleeds out. Finally, the cannon sounds and he is still.

Thresh took the opportunity to disappear back into the wheatfield, toting his pack, where he would no doubt be watching the carnage from a safe point. "Katniss!" Peeta shouts, and there is an unmistakable tone of relief – and happiness? – in his voice. I glance over at him, distracted by the sound of his voice, a sound that I had grown to seek comfort in. Cato and Glimmer break into action, shaking their brief paralysis and stalking forward. Glimmer pulls a second long sword-like knife from the sheath at her side.

I string another arrow, and Prim clutches her knife, waving it in front of her. The four of us weave around in a circle, while Peeta watches from a short distance, clearly at a loss for what to do. "You killed Clove," Cato says accusingly, his eyes narrowed in pure hatred. He quickens his pace, his anger firing him, but Prim and I speed up accordingly.

"She killed Rue," Prim shoots back, her voice strong and clear.

Cato shakes his head and laughs. The sound is so jarring and unwelcome. "Do you want to know what I'm going to do when I catch you?" he asks. "I'm going to pin you down and cut off your eyelids, so you can't close your eyes. Then slowly, one by one, I'm going to cut off your fingers. Then, when I get bored with you," he continues, jerking his head at Prim. "I'm going to start in on her. And I'm gonna make you watch."

Glimmer chuckles, a throaty laugh emanating from her wide mouth. "You're not going to let me miss out on all the fun, are you, Cato?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not, Glim. You can pin the little one down and do whatever the hell you want with her while I cut up the big one. Then we can switch."

Peeta is still unmoving.

"When do you want to start?" Glimmer asks excitedly.

Cato shrugs slowly, pretending to think it over. "How about... now?" He advances so quickly that I barely have time to register that he's moving. He's only taken about three steps when he's stopped. The knife flies out of nowhere and slices across his chest before bouncing harmlessly on the ground. He halts, and looks down at himself, inspecting the torn shirt and the skin underneath. I can see that the cut isn't very deep, but it doesn't seem to have upset Prim. She smiles at him.

Cato cocks his head to one side, and looks back at Glimmer. "On second thought," he growls. "I want the little one first."

Then without warning, his eyes roll back into his head and he keels over. The cannon sounds, and Glimmer is the last remaining Career. Her face registers alarm, and she realises that she is heavily outnumbered, despite her skill with weaponry. She bolts, scooping up Prim's knife and disappearing into the wheatfield. I recover, and line up my arrow at her retreating back, but once again, she escapes me. Seconds later, a cannon booms. Prim and I stare at the wheatfield, wondering whether Thresh managed to surprise Glimmer and bash her brains in with a rock, but Peeta clears his throat and looks down at Foxface's prone form. I realise that the quiet whimpering has stopped.

Peeta strides over to us, and twirls me into his arms. It's another one of those life-changing moments. Prim grabs us both and tugs us in the direction of the trees, and we come crashing back down to earth and resume our killer instincts. We follow her until we figure that we're safe, and I envelop the both of them in an enormous hug.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers in my ear, his breath warm. The three of us smile at each other uncontrollably. We've survived the Feast. We did it.

I groan suddenly.

"What?" Prim asks anxiously, looking me up and down.

I feel like butting my head against the trunk of a tree. "The pack! It's still in the middle of the Cornucopia."

Peeta's eyes widen. "You're kidding. How did we forget that?"

I'm angry at myself. "I don't know. What a stupid, stupid thing to do!" I start to move back in the opposite direction. "I'll go get it."

"I'm not letting you go by yourself," Peeta stops me, grabbing my arm.

"Stop! I'll just go. You two wait here." Before we can retort, Prim dashes off, keeping low and soaring along the ground like a low-flying sparrow.

"Prim!" I call after her, but she's refusing to turn around. I feel another rush of affection for her, knowing that even though she doesn't like or trust Peeta, she's trying to give us time together.

"What was with her knife?" Peeta asks. I'm reminded of the way her blade caused such deadly harm with the slightest cut. "How did she manage to kill Cato?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly. It hits me. "The blade. She poisoned the blade."

"How?"

"Nightlock, or some other concoction she created with the environment." My tone is admiring. "She was talking about how one of the victors poisoned all the food. She did the same thing with her weapon."

"Clever girl," Peeta comments. His tone is casual, but there is an undertone. I don't want him to start harping on about not being able to trust Prim, or vice versa. I don't even care about his excuse for Prim's accusations. He opens his mouth, and I'm certain he's going to say something I don't want to hear. I silence him by pressing my lips to his.

We kiss for a couple of minutes. It's hardly the time or place, but a girl can't be picky. His hands slide underneath my shirt and underneath the flimsy waistband of my pants, resting on my hips. I make a contented noise at the back of my throat, and push him backwards until he's leaning on a tree trunk.

Suddenly, the cannon sounds for the fourth time that day. We break apart frantically, and I'm immediately panicky. "Prim should be back by now," I gabble.

Peeta shakes his head. "It was a little further away, Katniss. Don't go thinking – it's not her -"

"Prim!" I scream, taking off. "Prim!"

The only sound that greets me is the eerie repetition of the word 'Prim', carried through the trees by gleeful Mockingjays.


	21. Chapter 21

"Katniss," a voice says melodically. Hot breath tickles my ear. "Katniss. Wake up."

My eyelids fly open and I sit up abruptly. Peeta is wound around me, like a viper, his eyes staring straight into mine. They are beautiful eyes, and at the present moment, they're looking at me like I'm the only person in the world.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, untangling myself. "I shut my eyes for a second."

"Almost an hour, actually," Peeta responds. "It's okay. I kept watch."

The events of the day come flooding back. The fight in the Cornucopia. The deaths of Marvel, Foxface and Cato. The death of someone else - someone unknown. Thresh, Glimmer or Prue. One of them would be in the sky tonight.

We'd spent hours searching for Prim. I'd climbed countless trees, trying to be light and limber like Rue, keeping an eye out from above, but the arena was as silent as death. Eventually, Peeta had convinced me to retire for the day, but the waiting was torture. Waiting to see the mysterious fourth face that would be in the sky was making me feel physically ill, and I'd barely been able to choke down a dinner of tree roots.

"Do you want to close your eyes for a while?" I ask.

"Not really," Peeta whispers as I lean back against him. "The song will play any second."

"I'll wake you up when it plays," I promise.

Peeta shakes his head, his fingers entwined in my braid. "I don't want to close my eyes when the only thing I want to dream about is right in front of me in real life," he says softly. My stomach does a little flip, and I don't really know how to reply. A pregnant pause passes, and he clears his throat. "What do you think was in our pack?"

I shrug, grateful for his stab at normal conversation. "I assumed something mediocre," I say. "Food, water, medicine."

"Our supply of that is pretty decent though," he objects. "I don't know. Can they direct the pack at just one person?"

"I guess they could," I answer. "But that's stupid, isn't it? What is there that one of us need that the other one doesn't?"

Peeta doesn't answer me; instead, I feel my shoulders shift as he cocks his head to one side and sits up a little straighter. The music is playing. The anthem.

We both scramble over to the cave opening on our hands and knees, forgetting to remain silent. Our faces pressed together, cheek-to-cheek, we look up at the nights sky, dotted with stars and the Capitol crest.

It begins.

The first face in the sky is Marvel. I can feel the both of us holding our breath, and Peeta grapples in the dark for my hand. He squeezes it tightly, just as much for his benefit as my own. My heart is caught in my throat as I watch Marvel's face, haughty and proud, hovering above the arena. It dissolves into the inky black, and is replaced with Cato's. He sneers at me from his position, and I feel a savage pull of emotion somewhere in my chest. _Look at us now, Cato,_ I think. _Look who has survived._ His sneer is cut off abruptly by the projector, and immediately the clever smirk belonging to Foxface stretches across the stars.

"Glimmer is still out there," Peeta mutters. I nod mutely, having jumped to the same conclusion myself. I can't tear my eyes away from Foxface. Who are her family? Who will miss her? And - I feel tears burning the back of my eyelids as I realise this - what was her real name? How did I never bother to learn her name? I watched this girl die. I watched her lying on the ground, crying, paralysed, bleeding out slowly. I've been through so much with this girl, and I never bothered to know her name.

Peeta brings me back to earth by almost cutting off the blood supply in my hand. Foxface disappears. The new face appears, the face that I had been dreading seeing all afternoon. Peeta gasps - he was clearly expecting to see something different. I choke back a gasp as well, but for a different reason. I'm _relieved._

Thresh's photo is magnificent - he looks menacing and absolutely lethal. He stares straight into my soul, and I feel as if he's asking me why he died and why I'm still alive. I can't answer him.

The song ends. The sky returns to the blanket of black and navy.  
>"She's still alive, Peeta," I say.<p>

"I know," Peeta answers.

"Is it wrong that I'm happy?" I ask, conflicted. "Thresh is dead. But I feel more happiness than I do sadness."  
>"You didn't know Thresh," Peeta tries to mollify me.<p>

"He gave Prim and I bread," I reply. "He threw us a loaf one night when we were in the field. He knew we were there. He could have killed us, but instead, he stayed where he was and gave us _food_." I shake my head.

"He was a good guy." Peeta shuffles back to the back of the cave and stretches out onto his stomach. I move towards him and mimic his body position, so that we're both lying on our stomachs with our faces turned in towards each other. "I wonder how Glimmer did it."

"I don't know, but I'm glad that none of us had to," I answer.

Peeta nods. We stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

"What are we going to do if it comes down to us three?" he whispers. "Katniss... I've just finally gotten you. I can't... I can't lose you."

"Don't think about it," I whisper back. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just don't think about it."

"What am I supposed to think about?" he asks me.

I'm thinking on my feet, trying to respond the way I know Haymitch would want me to. "Think... think about being back in District 12," I answer. "You and me." I move closer. "We're in the Hob, and I'm teaching you the best places to buy and who to trade with."

"What am I teaching you?" he says.

I make a face, and he laughs, scooting so close to me that our faces are almost touching. His hand snakes over my waist and they rest on my back. "You're ... you're teaching me to be more likeable?"

He laughs softly. "Katniss, I couldn't like you more if I tried."

He kisses me. It's heaven. For once, I don't think of Gale. I think of my mother and my father, and I wonder if this is love, the kind of love they shared. I know I'd be devastated if I lost Peeta.

But he was right. The three of us couldn't win. We would be the last three standing, there was no doubt about that. I would make sure of it. But we couldn't all leave this arena alive. I couldn't ask Peeta to die with me, to make Prim the victor of the 74th Hunger Games. I could never ask something like that of him. Not because I was scared that he would say no, but because I was sure he'd agree. I couldn't have his blood on my hands. I didn't want him to die.

But I was determined for Prim to live as well.


	22. Chapter 22

It's morning. Peeta and I are on the move early, as soon as the sun has come up. We step outside the cave warily, expecting something to leap out at us and attack, but our surroundings are relatively peaceful. Peeta steps out first, and then turns back to hold out his hand to me. The sunlight dances across his face and sifts through his messy blonde hair. He gives me a little smile and my heart lurches in my chest.

"Where are we heading?" he asks me.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder. My fingers brush the mark where the burn was on the back of my neck, and I marvel at the concoctions the Capitol can create. The skin is almost entirely smooth. "We find Glimmer, before she finds us or Prim," I answer. "Where do you think she'll be?"

Peeta furrows his brow. "She's scared," he hypothesizes. "Maybe not of us, but of the fact that she's alone for the first time in the Games. She's strong and lethal, but she's used to working in a team now. I don't think she made many of the decisions when she was among her allies." 

"My thoughts exactly," I nod. I point in a north-easterly direction and we trudge off. "I think she'll hang around the Cornucopia. I think she's going to try to spend the rest of the Games hiding and avoiding us, until she figures out a game plan, or we turn on each other."

"I hate to say it, but she's probably going to try to go for Prim first," Peeta says hesitantly. "She was the one who killed Cato, you know... and it would guarantee you coming after her."

"But does she want me to come after her?" I say, frustrated. "I think she's the type to lie in wait."

Peeta steps gingerly over some thick green vines. "We're trying to think of the best way to kill someone we don't even know," he says in wonder.

"It's better than thinking of ways she's going to try and kill us," I mutter peevishly under my breath. Peeta bats my hand flirtatiously as he pushes some hanging vines out of my way as we stumble through. It gives me butterflies for more than one reason. My stomach flip flops because I know I've developed feelings for him, and just his touch makes me smile, but it hurts at the same time because I'm going through something so dangerous and so serious, yet I have to continue smile and flirt with Peeta so that the Capitol continue to like me.

I had a lot on my mind.

We decide to cut through the field that Thresh had called home. The high grass would give us ample coverage while we decided how to strike, and if she was in the field, we'd be able to ambush her. She'd never expect us to take this route.

I make Peeta tell me stories about his family as we walk, because the silence is deafening. He speaks in a low, deliberate voice, quiet enough to still hear footsteps, but loud enough for me to concentrate on something other than bloodshed. Once we near the field, I press my finger to my lips halfway through his retelling of his twelfth birthday, and he quietens immediately.

"How do you want to do this, Katniss?" he asks softly, his eyes trained above, watching a bird circling in the sky.

"How else can we do it?" I respond, watching for any sign of movement in the field. "We go in blind."

"Not entirely blind," Peeta corrects me, indicating to the quiver of arrows strapped to my back. "You've got a weapon. We have something against her."

"She has Prim's knife, remember?" I say. "That must be how she killed Thresh. She must have figured out that the blade is poisoned. Keep that in the back of your mind, Peeta. Make sure you keep that knife in your sights at all times if we run into her. All it has to do is nick you and – and…"

"And I'm shipped back to the Capitol in a pine box," Peeta finishes dryly. "I'll look for the knife." 

"We go along the perimeter," I continue, ignoring him. "That way, if there's an issue where we don't think… we don't think we're going to come out victorious, we won't get lost in the tall grass. Keep looking in at all times, watch for any movement, no matter how slight it is."

Peeta hunches his shoulders, and we slip into the sweet cover.

We're taking it very slow, inching along, trying to limit the amount of noise we're making and disturbances we're creating. A flock of birds soar past us, jabbering shrilly at the top of their tiny lungs. We pass some stiff, chewed bread crusts, and I wonder idly when the Careers had passed through here. No way had Thresh thrown away perfectly good scraps of food, but it was just like the Careers to still be picky about their bread, even in a situation of grave danger. I nudge them out of the way with the toe of my shoe as we pass.

A slight movement catches my eye, and I control myself as I whirl around. Peeta waves his hand, and mutters, "Just a bird, Katniss. Relax."

"Are you kidding me?" I reply out of the corner of my mouth, turning back around. "What about this situation is possibly relaxing?"

We were almost halfway around the field, and in about fifty metres we would be at a perfect vantage point to see the Cornucopia. The only trouble with the position would be that we were completely exposed if someone were to approach from the side of the lake. I hiss this under my breath to Peeta, and he chews his lip as he considers. Finally, he looks me in the eye and nods. I understand him; I would have to decide for the both of us whether the risk was worth it. I was getting antsy standing still for so long in the field, so I exhaled slowly and kept moving forward.

We shuffled to a stop once we'd reached the vantage point. The backpack is still lying in the middle, and it makes my heart thump uncomfortably. Prim never made it back to get it. "Look," I say quietly. "The backpack is still there."

"We can't get it," Peeta says at once.

"I know. I think it's a trap as well. We could all be here, you know. All of us could be in different spots surrounding the Cornucopia."

"Makes sense," Peeta agrees.

"Glimmer would be expecting us to come back for it. She'd be close by, waiting for us to run in without cover. Prim would know that it was a trap, and she'd be waiting for Glimmer to lose her patience and show herself."

Peeta looks around nervously. "We'd see someone trying to sneak up on us across the Cornucopia," he points out. "If someone were to try and kill us from near the lake, we would be less prepared. We should stand back to back for a moment, just until we're sure we're alone. You face the lake; you're the one with the weapon."

I agree with him, and we take our places. With the singing birds and the sunshine dappling through the trees, our surroundings are misleadingly picturesque. I was reminded of some of Peeta's creations which I had seen in the bakery. I had had no idea until the Games that he was the one who decorated them. I particularly remembered one day in March, when Gale and I had just shot and killed some rabbits, which Peeta's father had always enjoyed buying. I'd been standing outside while Gale negotiated the transaction, looking in the bakery window, but not really appreciating until I saw a pair of rough, white hands open the display and place a cake onto an ornate silver stand. It had taken my breath away. Decorated in brilliant shades of orange, amber, burnt sienna and vermillion, it was shot with strands of gold and canary yellow and crafted to look as though a dawning sun was rising along the ridges. I'd never seen something so appetising, yet at the same time, too good to eat. I glanced behind me at Peeta, whose face was lit up by the sun. Until now.

"Beautiful scenery, huh?" he says casually. "This whole world, the Hunger Games world they've created for us… it's like one big nightlock."

I frown. "I don't know what you mean."

"Nightlock. Looks delicious, right? A sweet, juicy berry, and you're looking at it thinking, wow, you know, this is going to be amazing, it's going to just explode in my mouth with flavour, and it's going to fill me up. But then the second it touches your lips, you're dead. Do you get me?"

I nod slowly. "This arena looks beautiful, but it's full of things that want to kill us." I toyed with the arrow in my hand, strumming it against the bow. The vibrations travelled through my hands, giving me a rush of adrenaline.

"Not everything in here is deadly," Peeta says. He leant back, pressing his shoulders against mine. "I might be deadly to others, but not to you, Katniss."

It reminds me of the drama between Prim and Peeta. I'd managed to put it out of my mind for a while, but it was still there, dormant. Both of them had warned me against the other, and I still had no idea what to believe. I pushed it back out of my mind and chuckled quietly.

"Oh, yeah, Peeta," I quipped, deadpan. "You're a regular killing machi-"

A rustling in the field stopped me. The tall grass was being pushed apart hurriedly, and heavy footsteps sounded. Someone was running at top speed towards the Cornucopia, not caring about how much sound they made. I grabbed Peeta and pointed, and he nodded, shaking violently and stepping back so that we were side-by-side. The sky suddenly darkened, changing from my cake-in-the-bakery shade to a stormy grey in a matter of seconds. I lined up my bow and waited.

The flash of dirty, tangled blonde hair set my teeth on edge, and I pulled back the bow, snarling. As Glimmer tore out of the field and burst into my line of vision, her knife gripped in her hand, Peeta threw his arm out to stop me.

"Wait!" he cried. "Wait, Katniss, don't shoot yet!"

Glimmer turned at the sound of his voice, and stumbled slightly. Her feet criss-crossed in mid-air, and she went flying, ending up face down on the ground. She immediately flipped onto her back, scrabbling her feet in the dirt in her struggle to stand. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her dirt-streaked face was bloody.

Peeta and I turned back to the field, where the grass was still moving. Something was still pushing its' way through the grass. My heart hammered as my brain made the obvious connection. _Prim?_

A few seconds later, the air was alive with the sounds of Glimmer's terrified screams, Peeta's hoarse choking sounds, and my disbelieving whimpers. Peeta grabbed my hand and pulled me.

"Run, Katniss!" he bellowed, propelling me forward. "Run!"


End file.
